


Nothing But Trouble

by MiaCooper



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: F/M, VAMB Secret Summer 2016, giftfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-06
Updated: 2016-09-06
Packaged: 2018-08-10 13:19:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 25,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7846621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MiaCooper/pseuds/MiaCooper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three years after coming home, Voyager’s former command team want nothing to do with each other. She thinks he’s a cad and he thinks she’s nothing but trouble. But when Janeway disappears under mysterious circumstances, all the slave traders, fistfights and cagey admirals in the galaxy can’t stop Chakotay from going after her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue: The Net-Girl

**Author's Note:**

> Written for cara_mia for the VAMB Secret Summer 2016 exchange. My request was: “NC-17 J/C fic, preferably with a plot. I love thrillers and suspense. No-goes include wimpy J/C, baby fics, wedding fics”. Thanks cara_mia - that sounds right up my alley. I hope you like your gift!
> 
> For the purposes of this story, I’m ignoring the Voyager relaunch novels – they’re only quasi-canon, anyway.
> 
> Thanks, as always, to Mary S for being a stellar beta.
> 
>  **Disclaimer**  
>  Somewhere, there’s a pretty snow-capped mountain that doesn’t care a whit about raining unholy legal hell on me.
> 
>  **Warning**  
>  Some scenes contain non-consensual elements and could be disturbing.

**Prologue: The Net-Girl**

The link gave her a headache even when she’d only been connected for a single session, and she was coming off her third in a row now. Broik had insisted, and as she owed him a considerable sum of latinum, she hadn’t refused. She tugged the tiny transceiver unit out of the dataport at the base of her skull and tossed it onto her bed, slumping into the chair in front of her dressing table. Her fingers pressed circles on her aching temples and rubbed at the slightly-inflamed edges of the skin around the port. She’d just permitted herself a small sigh of exhaustion before she began disrobing for bed when she heard her Ferengi handler’s grating squawk over the commline.

~Róisín, you’re up. Suite 12. I’m uploading the scenario now.~

“Broik…” She was unable to completely suppress the groan in her voice. “I’m tired. Can’t you get another girl?”

~Not this time. You’ve been specifically requested.~

Róisín sighed. _Think of the money_ , she told herself. “Fine. Send the parameters to my personal console. I’ll be there in five minutes.”

~Done. Broik out.~

Her terminal beeped and Róisín attached the uplink unit to it to transmit the file Broik had sent. Reading it simultaneously on her terminal screen, she felt her stomach twist painfully. She commed the Ferengi. “Broik, this is a full service flesh job! You know I don’t do those.”

~You go where you’re sent, honey. And this one pays big, so get dressed, put a smile on that pretty face and do as you’re told. And remember, I’ll be watching you.~

“Lobeless creep,” Róisín muttered under her breath as she closed the commline. It was Broik’s job to watch the fleshers to make sure the girls stayed safe, but the Ferengi took just a little too much pleasure in that part of his role. She looked again at the job specs, gritted her teeth and moved over to her closet, flicking through the limited selection until she found the outfit she needed. Breathing deeply to quell her nerves, she stepped into the short, silky blue dress and matching heels, shook out her hair, scooped up the transceiver from the bed and stomped up to Suite 12.

The holosuite was darkened when she entered, a few dim ceiling lamps providing the only illumination. The client hadn’t arrived yet, so Róisín glanced quickly around; Broik was notorious for leaving out critical details in the scenario files he sent his girls and she wasn’t in the mood for any surprises. It looked right, though: the bar with its row of high stools, the shadowed booths along the edges of the room, the pool table. A few holographic characters stood around, frozen in place. They were all men, Róisín noted, except for the bartender who was an amply endowed human female. Róisín wondered if her client would be disappointed by the comparison between the hologram’s figure and her own. Not that she cared.

She slid onto a bar stool, crossing her legs, then attached the transmitter unit to the hologrid control panel and clicked the transceiver into the dataport at the base of her skull. “Commence download,” she ordered, and closed her eyes to ward off the headache as the data streamed into her consciousness.

The holographic bar was located in a French port city. Her character was a woman of means, lonely after a loveless marriage and ugly divorce, driven from another solitary evening at home to seek the company of men in this slightly seedy waterfront bar. Her client was a stranger to the city who happened upon the bar, and she was supposed to seduce him.

Róisín’s stomach clenched a little. She tried to avoid flesh jobs as a rule and she never did anything above Level 2. As there were plenty of girls who did the fleshers, Broik was generally content to let her stick to the mind jobs. Not that she enjoyed those either – filling her mind with images from her own sexual past to provide vicarious enjoyment to nameless men was unnerving and occasionally distressing, but at least she didn’t have to touch them. And she’d become quite skilled at drawing on fantasies rather than actual memories to transmit through the link. It was so much less personal that way.

Róisín found it a lot harder to disassociate during the flesh jobs. As well as conjuring up memories or fantasies to heighten the experience, there was actual physical contact with the clients. The first time Broik had bullied her into a flesher she’d almost lost her job. The client had been a rotund Bolian with a body odour problem; gyrating on his lap, she’d been distracted by his pungent scent and had immediately visualised herself vomiting all over him. The mental picture had transmitted clearly through the link and the Bolian, incensed, threw her halfway across the room and demanded his credits back. She hoped her current state of exhaustion wouldn’t play such havoc with her control this time. She hoped her client wouldn’t nauseate her.

Behind her, the holosuite door slid open, and Róisín straightened on her stool. “Computer, begin program,” she whispered, and as the holocharacters came to life, she turned to face her client.

As she scrutinised the tall dark-haired man in front of her, Róisín’s stomach tightened again, but nausea had nothing to do with it. She swallowed around a suddenly dry throat and wondered if finding the client insanely attractive was actually worse for a girl like her than finding him repellent.

The client stepped closer. His face had been serious when he entered the holosuite, but now he gave her a slow, warm, dimpled smile that flipped her insides all over again. Unconsciously she arched her back a little, feeling the silky dress tighten over her breasts. The man’s gaze lowered past her neckline. She expected him to leer, but incomprehensibly, he blinked, flushed a little and fixed his gaze resolutely on her face.

“Hello,” he said in a voice like velvet. “What’s a nice girl like you doing in a place like this?”


	2. The Vexatious Woman

**I. The Vexatious Woman**  
  
“You’re a _petaQ_.”  
  
Chakotay sighed. “What have I done this time?”  
  
“You know what.” B’Elanna Torres gave him a scowl a full-blooded Klingon warrior would have worn with pride. “ _She’s_ no better, of course.”  
  
Chakotay looked to Tom Paris for help, but the cowardly helmsman only raised his hands, scooting his chair back from the table and standing up to head for the bar. “Sorry, Captain, you’re on your own for this one.”  
  
B’Elanna’s scowl had morphed into a glare. “Have you two even spoken to each other tonight?” She jerked her head in the direction of the buffet table. Chakotay followed the movement and immediately wished he hadn’t.  
  
“Of course we have,” he replied evenly.  
  
B’Elanna snorted. “I don’t mean that icy formal greeting, or the introductions to Starfleet brass that you couldn’t avoid. I mean have you _talked_ to her?”  
  
Chakotay’s gaze wandered traitorously over toward the subject of B’Elanna’s tirade, who had her back to him. Her pale, delicately-muscled back, completely bared by the daringly low drape of her dark-blue satin dress. His eyes narrowed. Nobody as cold as Kathryn Janeway had any right to look so … touchable.  
  
Her date evidently disagreed. Chakotay watched as the man’s hand slid onto the base of the Admiral’s back, the tips of his fingers just slipping under the lowermost dip of the fabric, onto her –  
  
“ _Chakotay_! Are you even listening to me?” B’Elanna’s fierce eyes pinned him. “What’s wrong with the pair of you? All the rest of us get together as often as we can, but I’ll bet you two haven’t even seen each other since the last reunion.”  
  
“That’s not true. I saw the Admiral at Headquarters just last week.”  
  
“Oh, you mean when you spotted her across the gardens and hustled me in the opposite direction so fast I nearly sprained my ankle?”  
  
“No,” answered Chakotay, giving her a quelling look. “I mean when she gave me Voyager’s next mission briefing. Speaking of which, you’d better make that your last drink, Commander. We ship out in three days and I want our engines in tip-top shape, so I expect you to report first thing in the morning.”  
  
“My engines are always in tip-top shape, Captain,” B’Elanna retorted. “And don’t think I didn’t notice you changing the subject.”  
  
Tom returned from the bar with two glasses of champagne, handing one to his wife. “A word of warning, Captain – my dad’s looking for you. He says it’s time for the dance.”  
  
Chakotay tried not to cringe. Why must the admiralty insist he take a turn on the dance floor with his former CO at every damned official function? He’d managed to slip out before the dance at the last few – the Starfleet Christmas ball, the anniversary of the Dominion Amnesty and some diplomatic function hosted by the Cardassian ambassador – but he had a sinking feeling that ditching Admiral Janeway at the Voyager reunion would not be looked upon favourably by anyone, least of all his former and current crew. “I’ll be needing one of these, then,” he muttered, grabbing Tom’s champagne and downing it in one.  
  
“Ah, there you are, Captain,” he heard, and looked up into Owen Paris’ beaming face. “Come on, son, don’t keep a beautiful woman waiting.”  
  
Owen gestured toward the bar, where Kathryn Janeway stood holding a glass of champagne and watching Chakotay with an unreadable expression. He noted absently that her fingers were tight on the champagne glass and there was tension in the slender lines of her body; apparently she was looking forward to this dance about as much as he was. “Let’s get it over with, then,” he muttered, and strode over to her just as the orchestra began playing something gentle and lilting.  
  
He stood in front of her and couldn’t stop himself from sweeping a low, mocking bow. “I believe we’re expected to dance, Admiral.” He held out his hand.  
  
Something flashed in her eyes and was gone. She placed her glass carefully on the bar and laid her hand in his. “Far be it from me to thwart expectations, Captain,” she replied coolly as he led her onto the dance floor.  
  
She turned into the traditional waltz hold and Chakotay was instantly uncomfortable. Her right hand rested in his left, but the fingers of his other hand hovered over the bare skin of her back. He really didn’t want to touch her skin, and he really didn’t want to think about why the idea of touching her was so disturbing.  
  
“Something wrong, Captain?” she asked him, and his back stiffened at the low amusement in her tone. _She wore this damn dress on purpose,_ he realised suddenly _._  
  
“Not at all, Admiral.” His fingers spread over that expanse of naked skin, caressing her lightly. He felt her shiver and hid a smirk of his own.  
  
In retaliation, Kathryn closed the polite distance between them, satiny thigh slipping between his own as they moved. Chakotay edged back. She followed. “What are you doing?” he asked through gritted teeth.  
  
She widened her taunting blue eyes. “Pardon me, Captain. I thought you were taking the lead.” Ever so slightly, she leaned into him and her satiny bodice brushed his chest. He looked down automatically and got an eyeful of creamy cleavage framed in dark-blue satin. He clenched his jaw.  
  
“Nice of you to let me lead for once, Admiral,” he ground out, flattening his hand on her back so that her hips aligned with his. The move backfired: she shimmied almost imperceptibly, her pelvis sliding against his, and he felt his cock twitch. He spun her outward to get her away from him. But when she spun back, he found her pressed even closer. “Damn it,” he muttered. “Stop playing games with me.”  
  
She tilted her head up at him, blue eyes malevolent as she subtly pressed her hips against him. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”  
  
“Oh, you know exactly what I mean, Kathryn.” Chakotay let his fingers drift down her spine, dipping under the low back of the dress. She caught her breath. He pulled her closer, his mouth at her ear, and she shivered as he spoke. “It won’t work. Not anymore.”  
  
“Are you so sure of that, Chakotay?” She turned her face to his, waited until he met her gaze, and slowly, lasciviously, licked her lips. Chakotay felt his penis jump to embarrassingly rigid attention. His breath hissed out through his teeth. Kathryn smiled triumphantly, rolled her hips against him one last time, and stepped out of his arms just as the music swelled to a finish. “Thank you for the dance, Captain. I believe this round goes to me.”  
  
And she sashayed away, leaving him alone on the dance floor and thanking the spirits for the tailored dinner jacket that covered his raging hard-on.  
  
=/\=  
  
His chief engineer folded her arms on the ready room desk and stared at him until Chakotay sighed and put down the PADD. “There’s nothing to talk about, B’Elanna, so you can just stop giving me your Klingon counsellor routine.”  
  
“Nothing to talk about?” she grinned. “ _Really_? Last week, you and the Admiral practically lit the dance floor on fire in front of half of Starfleet, but I guess that was nothing. The Admiral’s date walked out on her after a very obvious disagreement in the cloakroom, but I guess that was nothing. You spent the rest of the night with your face in a bottle of whiskey and Tom and I practically had to carry you home, where you wouldn’t stop ranting about – how did you put it? – ‘ _that she-devil_ ’, but no. There’s _nothing to talk about_.”  
  
Chakotay rubbed at his temples. Voyager was a few days into a precarious diplomatic mission to Romulus, he was behind on his mission reports, and he really wasn’t in the mood for this. “What do you want me to say, B’Elanna?” he asked tiredly.  
  
“I want the truth! You spent seven years on the other side of the galaxy as comrades, friends and Kahless knows what else. Yet for the past three years, you two have avoided each other like the Terellian plague, and when you do cross paths you act like a pair of spitting targs. What happened after we got home from the Delta quadrant that turned the two of you into mortal enemies? Give me the juice, Chakotay!”  
  
“We had an argument,” he admitted after a long pause. “A bad one. Our worst one yet…”  
  
=/\=  
  
_The new dress uniforms were even less comfortable than the old ones, but that wasn’t why Chakotay tugged at his collar as though it was choking him. He hovered at Captain Janeway’s left shoulder, waiting for his chance to cut into her seemingly endless conversation with Admiral Hayes. Across the ballroom, Seven looked up from talking to her aunt and sent him a warm, encouraging smile. She really did look beautiful tonight, Chakotay thought. Even more so when she smiled, which she’d done with increasing regularity since the Doctor removed her failsafe device._  
  
_Finally, Hayes clasped Kathryn’s hands and said, “Well, I’m sure you have plenty of people to talk to tonight, Captain, so I won’t monopolise you any longer. Welcome home,” and Chakotay placed a hand on her shoulder before the next blowhard could interrupt them._  
  
_“Kathryn.”_  
  
_She turned, eyes bright and smile brighter, and he felt his heart seize. It’s just the nerves, he told himself, although really, there was no reason to be nervous about this, was there?_  
  
_“Chakotay,” she said. It might have been his imagination, but it looked like her smile had slipped when she looked at him. “Are you having fun?”_  
  
_“Could we talk for a minute? In private?”_  
  
_Her eyes shuttered, but she nodded and followed him onto the balcony. Chakotay guided her to the far corner where they wouldn’t be seen – and interrupted – by the other guests. “There’s something I need to tell you,” he blurted._  
  
_Kathryn’s hands clenched on the railing, but her voice was expressionless. “What is it, Chakotay?”_  
  
_He rubbed a hand through his hair. Now that he’d started, he didn’t know how to continue. “Ah,” he stammered, “well, it’s about, uh, Seven of Nine. And me. Uh, Seven and me.”_  
  
_She had turned away from him slightly, and her profile was giving him no clues as to her reaction._  
  
_“We’ve been seeing each other,” he said in a rush. “Um, for a few weeks now. Since just after Ledos.”_  
  
_The frost in her voice wasn’t what he’d expected. “Well, I can’t say I’m surprised, Commander.”_  
  
_Chakotay jerked back a little. “What’s that supposed to mean?”_  
  
_“I knew you were seeing her. The Admiral told me. The other me.” Her shoulders straightened. “I’m only surprised it took you so long to gather the courage to tell me yourself. I guess you really did leave the angry warrior behind long, long ago.”_  
  
_He felt like she’d slapped him. He couldn’t speak._  
  
_“Well.” She turned toward him, moving up close, her face a mask. “Best of luck with your new girlfriend, Commander. If you hurt her, I’ll disembowel you.” She patted his chest perfunctorily and moved to push past him._  
  
_He grabbed her arm._  
  
_She looked pointedly at his hand. “I’d remove that if I were you.”_  
  
_“You cold, hard bitch.”_  
  
_The ice was forming crystals in her voice now. “I beg your pardon?”_  
  
_“How dare you speak to me that way.” In contrast, he was burning up, shaking with fiery rage. “And people accuse Seven of being callous and unfeeling. She has nothing on her former mentor. I can only hope she got out from under your wing soon enough that she won’t turn into you.”_  
  
_Kathryn’s eyes bored into his. “You are way out of line, Commander.”_  
  
_“Really? I don’t think so. I think it’s well past time someone told you the truth.”_  
  
_“And what truth is that?” She was so still, carved in ice while he was trembling with fury._  
  
_“That you’re a hypocrite. You hold others up to impossible standards and then you don’t even explain why or how they’ve failed. You never have to explain anything, do you Kathryn? You never have to listen to anybody. You do exactly what you want to do and damn anybody else who gets hurt in the process.”_  
  
_He watched her throat work and felt a grim sort of pride that he’d obviously scored a direct hit. But when she spoke, there was no trace of a quaver in her voice. “I see. And is that your professional opinion as my first officer? Or is this a personal attack?”_  
  
_“Does it matter?”_  
  
_“I’d just like to know if I can expect my exec to betray me during the upcoming briefings, or if this is simply the end of a friendship you always wanted to be more.”_  
  
_Chakotay reared back. Seven years of never addressing what once might have been between them, and she was bringing it up now, to make him bleed? “You’d like to think that, wouldn’t you? It did your ego good to play with my feelings all those years. Poor, pathetic Chakotay, pining after the Captain. You loved every minute of it. All those times you touched my shoulder or my chest, all those candlelit dinners; they were just to keep me on your hook, weren’t they? Well, I’m sorry, Kathryn. I’ve moved on. You’ll need to find yourself a new victim.”_  
  
_For a moment the mask slipped and he thought he saw tears shimmering in her eyes. “I see,” she said quietly. “Then I guess we have nothing further to say. Goodbye, Commander.”_  
  
_This time, when she brushed past him, he let her go._  
  
_A moment later, Seven appeared on the balcony. Her eyes looked huge and she was twisting her hands together. “I overheard your conversation with Captain Janeway,” she informed him without preamble. “I – I wish to dissolve our romantic relationship.”_  
  
_“What?” Chakotay was still reeling._  
  
_“I believe I have erred,” Seven answered, her voice shaking. “I understood that your relationship with the Captain was platonic. Clearly I was mistaken about your feelings for her.”_  
  
_“Seven, that’s not-”_  
  
_She cut him off. “Further, I was mistaken in my assessment of your character. I – I do not believe I can learn anything more of value from my association with you.” She looked at the floor and mumbled, “I do not wish you to hurt me the way you hurt her.”_  
  
_Seven looked up at him again, and the expression on her face made Chakotay feel like the lowest form of dirt under her shoe. “Goodbye, Chakotay,” she said simply, and she left him standing alone on the balcony feeling like he’d just been the loser in a twelve-round prizefight._  
  
=/\=  
  
B’Elanna’s eyes were huge with horror by the time he’d finished recounting the fatal splintering of his – relationship? whatever it was – with Kathryn Janeway.  
  
“Kahless,” she breathed. “How could you, Chakotay?”  
  
He said nothing. Telling that story to someone else for the first time, three years down the track, he was starting to realise that although Kathryn may have drawn the first blood, he’d been the one to level the death blow. Chakotay dropped his face into his hands. “I was so angry with her,” he mumbled.  
  
“That night, or for the previous seven years?”  
  
“I guess both,” he admitted. “I didn’t even realise it until that night. I guess it’s no secret that I had … feelings for her. I always thought – I hoped – that she felt the same, and that one day she’d come to me. I thought it was the command structure that kept us apart, and if ever our circumstances changed, we’d be together.”  
  
“And whose fault is it that it didn’t happen that way?” B’Elanna asked pointedly. “Who waltzed into the Alpha quadrant with a blonde half his age on his arm?”  
  
“I couldn’t have known,” he said, frustrated. “We’d grown so far apart that I thought there was no chance for us anymore. Not in the Delta quadrant, anyway. If I’d known we were going to get home so soon, do you really think I’d have taken up with Seven of Nine? I mean, she’s a wonderful person, but she’s not…”  
  
“She’s not Kathryn Janeway,” B’Elanna finished for him.  
  
Chakotay shrugged. “It’s not like it matters now, anyway. Kathryn clearly never felt the way I did.”  
  
B’Elanna gave him a disbelieving look. “How would you know?”  
  
“Isn’t it obvious? She thought I was pathetic.”  
  
“That was your interpretation,” she pointed out. “You didn’t actually give her a chance to tell you her side of the story, did you?”  
  
Chakotay thought back on that conversation. “Shit,” he groaned. “I didn’t, did I? I just … went straight for the jugular.” He dropped his head into his hands again.  
  
“So what are you going to do about it?”  
  
“What can I do?” He looked at his friend blearily. “It’s too late for an apology. She’s never going to forgive me.”  
  
“How do you know unless you try?” B’Elanna reached over the desk and placed her hand on his. “Do you love her?”  
  
“I –” He stopped. Did he love her? The woman who’d been his best friend, who’d made him laugh harder than anybody he’d ever met, who’d ruled his heart for close to seven years … Who’d ignored his counsel, thrown herself repeatedly in the face of danger despite all his  efforts to keep her safe, who’d torn out his heart over and over again … The woman who, three years after he’d ended their friendship, was still his first thought upon waking and his last before he slept?  
  
“Yes,” he said miserably. “I love her.”  
  
“You really are a _petaQ_ ,” B’Elanna told him, fondly patting his hand.


	3. The Mission

**II. The Mission**  
  
Kathryn Janeway’s eyes grew narrower, and her mouth firmer, the longer Admiral Theo Patterson talked.  
  
“Pardon me, Admiral,” she interrupted finally, “but I have to ask – why me? I don’t exactly fit the profile. I’m neither young, innocent nor anonymous. And, let’s face it, I’m no great beauty either.”  
  
Patterson leaned forward a little, ticking off his answers on his fingers. “You’re trained in covert operations, tactics and combat. You’re not as famous as you used to be, thanks to your pathological resistance to any kind of press attention over the past three years, and in any case, that Reman cloning scandal seems to have replaced Voyager in the newsfeeds recently. And regarding your, ah, physical attributes, you underestimate yourself, Katie.” Patterson’s eyes grew misty. “I remember you in that slinky little dress you wore to the last Voyager reunion ball. In fact, half the admiralty remembers…” He broke off hastily, realising Kathryn was giving him the kind of glare she usually reserved for impolite aliens and Starfleet counsellors. “Ahem. Anyway, would you really want to send a green ensign on a mission like this? Let’s just say Starfleet Intelligence believes you fit the profile admirably, Admiral.” He chortled at his own joke.  
  
Kathryn tried very, very hard not to roll her eyes.  
  
“So you’ll be leaving in a couple of weeks. Report to Captain Haversham in the Dover Building for your mission briefing at 1100 hours.” Patterson stood, tugging his uniform over his desk-job belly, and held out his hand for Kathryn to shake. “Good luck, Katie. We’re counting on you.”  
  
=/\=  
  
Captain Haversham was tall, dour and thin to the point of emaciated, but his eyes were kind and Kathryn liked him immediately. She liked him even more when he greeted her with “I’ll get straight to the point, Admiral,” and then actually proceeded to do so.  
  
“And how long is this mission expected to take?” she asked when Haversham had finished speaking.  
  
“I couldn’t say, Admiral. We’ve been surveilling the operation for several months now, but as yet we haven’t had any luck infiltrating it. We’ll place you at the Federation starbase on Relva VII. It’s a known waystation for Syndicate operatives and we believe a good portion of the victims have been recruited from there. Most of them are sent to the holocomplex on New Sydney, in the Sappora system. If all goes according to plan you should be on the inside within a day or two. Once you’re in play, Starfleet Intel has every confidence you’ll be able to identify the perpetrators in short order and relay the information to your contact.”  
  
“Who will that be?”  
  
“A Trill woman named Yanas Tigan. She’s based on New Sydney.”  
  
“She’s Starfleet?”  
  
“Hardly. She runs a mining company. But she’s had, shall we say, unpleasant dealings with the Syndicate in the past, and she does have a daughter in the ‘fleet. She’s on our side.”  
  
Kathryn tapped her nails on the desk thoughtfully. “And what happens when I’ve completed my mission?”  
  
“You’ll be extracted, of course. Yanas will make arrangements to get you out of the complex, and we’ll make sure there’s a starship nearby to bring you home.”  
  
“What about the girls?”  
  
“There’ll be a rescue operation. We’ll be sending in the Starfleet Rangers. Sappora isn’t a Federation system, but many of those girls are Federation citizens, so HQ has approved the Rangers using any means necessary to achieve the objective.”  
  
“All right.” Kathryn stood. “I only have two weeks to prepare, so let’s get started. Where to first, Captain?”   
  
Haversham stood and indicated she should precede him through the door. “Medical,” he answered. “We’re meeting your friend Seven of Nine.”  
  
“Seven? What for?”  
  
“She has expertise in similar technology to the device you’ll be fitted with once you reach New Sydney,” Haversham answered. “I guess you could say she’s been drafted.”  
  
=/\=  
  
“Hello, Seven.”  
  
Kathryn was surprised and a little delighted when the statuesque blonde stood to greet her with a wide smile and a warm embrace. “It’s wonderful to see you, Admiral.”  
  
“Likewise. How long have you been stationed at Medical?”  
  
“For the past several weeks. Admiral Patterson requested my assistance with the technical components you are expected to encounter on your mission.” She turned to Haversham, standing in the doorway. “Captain.”  
  
Haversham nodded at her. “Dr Hansen. Admiral Janeway has been fully briefed on the particulars of the mission. It’s up to you to familiarise her with the technology.” He stepped out the door, offering the two women a smile. “I’ll leave the two of you to catch up.”  
  
“Dr Hansen?” Kathryn smiled, when they were alone.  
  
Seven inclined her head. “An honorary title. I’ve been awarded doctorates from Oxford and Harvard for my work with their research teams.”  
  
“I’m so proud of you, Seven.” Kathryn squeezed the young woman’s arm briefly. “I was going to apologise for not being here for you much these past three years, but I can see you’ve done extraordinarily well on your own.”  
  
“You have been busy,” Seven demurred. “And your mentoring of me on Voyager is largely to credit for any success I have achieved. It is I who should be apologising to you.”  
  
“For what?”  
  
“For neglecting to thank you sufficiently for all you’ve done for me.” Seven hesitated, then blurted, “I have tried to emulate your example. If I exhibit any of your personal qualities in any small way, I am proud.”  
  
Kathryn felt an unexpected prickle of tears. “Thank you, Seven. You don’t know what that means to me.”  
  
“It is past time that I told you that,” Seven said softly. “I regret that you may have spent the past three years under the impression that your guidance had not been a positive influence on me.”  
  
Kathryn looked at her questioningly.  
  
“I have debated whether to tell you this,” Seven rushed on. “I overheard your discussion with Captain Chakotay at the homecoming ball. He said some extremely unkind things.”  
  
Kathryn felt heat rise in her face. “We both did, Seven. I’m sorry you had to hear that.”  
  
“I’m not. Chakotay’s behaviour that night was the reason I discontinued our romantic affiliation.”  
  
“What?” Kathryn was horrified. “Oh, Seven …” She’d thrown Chakotay’s feelings for her in his face that night. And Seven had heard.  
  
“Don’t be upset, Admiral. It’s better that I discovered that aspect of Chakotay’s nature, and the nature of his feelings for you, before our relationship developed further. I consider it a learning experience.”  
  
“Seven …” Kathryn sighed. “That argument was a very long time coming, and you saw the worst of both of us that night. I’m only sorry it led to the breakup of your first relationship. And I’m sorry that he and I both lacked the restraint to avoid saying things we can’t take back.”  
  
Seven raised an eyebrow. “Do you regret ending your affiliation with Captain Chakotay?”  
  
“I –” Kathryn opened and closed her mouth. “I don’t know, Seven. We were friends for a long time. We went through hell together and we relied on each other for so much. And I –” she hesitated, then admitted, “I miss him, but I think it’s too late for us.”  
  
“I’m curious,” Seven said slowly. “Clearly, I am still learning about the complexities of interpersonal relationships. It would seem that a vehement disagreement should end any wish to remain in contact by the parties involved, and result in the gradual decline of their feelings. And yet, my observations of you and the Captain indicate that there remains a significant and intense level of emotion in your interactions.”  
  
Kathryn was a little out of practice at deciphering Seven-speak and she really wasn’t getting this. “I’m sorry, Seven, but what do you mean?”  
  
“I watched you dancing at the Voyager reunion ball. My conclusion was that you and Chakotay are a long way from indifferent to each other.” She turned to her computer console, giving Kathryn the privacy to gape like a fish in the wake of her comment, and added, “Perhaps it’s time to put aside your disagreements and attempt to remind yourselves, and each other, of why you became friends in the first place.”  
  
Kathryn was silent for a while as Seven tapped into her console, bringing up a number of files. “When did you get so wise, Seven?” she asked finally.  
  
Seven smiled at her. “Perhaps it was when two prestigious universities saw fit to award me with honours.”  
  
Kathryn laughed. “I’ve missed you.”  
  
“And I have missed you, Admiral,” Seven replied, briefly touching Kathryn’s hand. “Shall we get to work?”  
  
=/\=  
  
“The flight to Relva VII will take approximately two weeks,” Haversham informed her as he offered Kathryn a hand up to the transporter pad. “Captain Bale will drop you off at the starbase. It shouldn’t take long for one of the Syndicate operatives to spot you. We expect you’ll be in the holocomplex on New Sydney within a few days of your arrival.”  
  
“So I’m to just hang around at the starbase bars looking lonely and vulnerable until someone kidnaps me?” Kathryn raised an eyebrow.  
  
“That’s about the size of it,” Haversham grinned. “I’m sure that doesn’t come particularly naturally to you, Admiral, so might I suggest you spend some of the trip practising your acting skills?”  
  
Kathryn snorted. “If all goes according to plan, Captain, I’ll be needing my acting skills for a whole lot more than bar-hopping.” She hefted her bag onto her shoulder and took the PADD Haversham was holding out to her. “Any last-minute instructions?”  
  
“No. Just … good luck, Admiral. You’re doing a wonderful thing.” Haversham shook her hand.  
  
Kathryn inclined her head in reply and tapped her commbadge. “Janeway to Magellan. Energise.”  
  
=/\=  
  
In the end, the kidnapping of Kathryn Janeway took less than forty-eight hours.  
  
Relva VII was a miserable planet – barren and cold, with few redeeming features. The Federation starbase was one of the few settlements on the eastern hemisphere, the others being a duranium mine and a long-range sensor array. The starbase acted as spaceport and maintenance facility for those merely passing through, and entertainment complex for those unfortunate enough to be staying.  
  
Kathryn beamed down from the Magellan in civilian clothing, and as soon as she’d sent an encrypted message to Yanas Tigan on New Sydney to let her know she was in play, she wasted no time in finding the nearest bar and asking for work. The bartender suggested the mining facility, but she leaned in close and whispered that she preferred a job where she didn’t have to provide too much personal information. Her furtive expression, coupled with the yellowing bruises that the Magellan’s CMO had painted on her eye socket and jaw, helped the bartender draw the desired inference: she was escaping a bad relationship and had no wish to be found. By that evening Kathryn was wearing a tight-fitting dress and serving drinks to miners.  
  
Twenty-four hours later a Talosian man struck up a conversation with her as she refilled his wineglass. She allowed him to charm her, let slip just enough false information to ensure his confidence that nobody would miss her, and waited. At the end of her shift, Kathryn wrapped a shawl around her head, hunched her shoulders, and wandered slowly down dimly-lit corridors until they came for her.  
  
She fought them, as they’d expect her to, but her struggles were no match for three trained Syndicate thugs. She felt her first honest flicker of fear as they shoved her shawl over her face and immobilised her arms behind her back. One of the men called for transport, and when they rematerialised on a ship, the shawl was pulled away and she was face to face with a smiling, green-skinned man.  
  
“Welcome to the Orion Syndicate, my little flower,” he addressed her. “You are now our property. Break the rules and you will suffer. Follow the rules, and you will suffer less.”  
  
Kathryn fought down her natural instinct to glare, and instead dug her fingernails surreptitiously into her palm, letting the pain fill her eyes with tears. “Why have you taken me?” she asked in a quavering voice.  
  
“Because we can,” the Orion answered, his smile never faltering.


	4. The Days Without You

**III. The Days Without You**  
  
The diplomatic mission to Romulus had been successful. Significant steps had been taken toward a peace treaty, Chakotay had been presented with several bottles of Romulan ale by a grateful senator, and Voyager was now, thankfully, docked at McKinley Station. There would be debriefs, of course, but the majority of the crew was keen for some time off. And Chakotay, who’d had a lot of time to think along the journey, was impatient to make amends with a certain auburn-haired Admiral.  
  
It had taken him most of the journey home to compose a message to her – he’d run through eight drafts before finally settling on a simple _Kathryn, I’m sorry. I’d like to see you, if you’re willing. Could we meet? Chakotay_. He sent it to her personal account as soon as he’d transported home, and hoped she’d see fit to reply soon.  
  
When he’d still received no reply two weeks later, Chakotay went to visit B’Elanna. “Have you heard from Admiral Janeway?” he asked when they’d settled at the kitchen table with his sweetened coffee and her raktajino.  
  
B’Elanna shook her head, keeping an eye on two-year-old Miral running riot in the playroom next door. “She usually gets in touch when Tom and I are on Earth, but she could be off on a mission. Try not to take her silence personally just yet, Chakotay.”  
  
Miral came over and climbed onto Chakotay’s lap, wiping chocolatey fingers on his uniform. “More?” she asked hopefully, batting her long eyelashes at him.  
  
“No more chocolate,” B’Elanna said firmly. “Honestly, Chakotay, the next time you decide to load my daughter up with sugar before lunchtime, I’m giving her to you for the afternoon.”  
  
“Sorry,” he grinned, bouncing Miral on his knee. “Listen, do you think you could ask Owen if he knows where Kathryn is?”  
  
B’Elanna shrugged and walked over to the comm terminal in the corner of the kitchen. “Good morning, Admiral,” she said when Owen Paris’ face appeared on screen.  
  
~B’Elanna! How are you? How’s my gorgeous granddaughter? And I’ve told you before to call me Owen.~  
  
“We’re all just fine, thank you. But, Admiral, this isn’t really a social call. I was wondering if you’ve heard from Admiral Janeway recently?”  
  
~Come to think of it, I haven’t spoken to Katie for a couple of months now,~ Owen answered.  
  
“Is that unusual?”  
  
~Not particularly. Are you worried about something?~  
  
“Well, it’s unusual for us not to have heard from her for that long – she doesn’t like to go too long without seeing Miral. And I’ve sent her a couple of messages that she hasn’t returned. Do you have any idea where she might be?”  
  
~Let me ask around for you. I’ll get back to you shortly. Paris out.~  
  
An hour later he called back. ~I’m sorry, B’Elanna, all I can find out is that she’s out of the system on a classified mission.~  
  
“Do you know when she’s expected back?”  
  
~No, but I’m sure she’s fine. Don’t worry.~  
  
“Thanks, Owen. See you for dinner on Sunday. Torres out.” She turned to Chakotay when the comm screen went black. “Well, what do you think?”  
  
“A classified mission Owen Paris doesn’t know about?” Chakotay raised his eyebrows. “Either Owen isn’t being completely forthcoming, or this mission is more than just classified.”  
  
“You think she’s on a black op?”  
  
“I think we need to do a little more digging.”  
  
=/\=  
  
Ever since he’d decided to make it up to Kathryn for what he now saw as his appalling behaviour, Chakotay could hardly concentrate on anything else. Voyager was due for a sensor array upgrade, so Chakotay and his crew were on leave while the ship was under maintenance at Utopia Planetia for a couple of weeks. The others were making the most of their time off. Several of them had booked a group of cabins in the Caribbean. He’d been invited, but he couldn’t seem to bring himself to leave San Francisco; there was always the chance Kathryn would return from her mission and he didn’t want to miss seeing her. And in the meantime he had ready access to Starfleet Headquarters and all its resources. If he was going to chase down any promising leads on Kathryn’s whereabouts, it would be there.  
  
But there seemed to be no leads, only brick walls. Chakotay shook his head in frustration as he left Admiral Baines’ office. Baines had been a last resort, really. He and Kathryn had worked together a year ago on a first-contact program with a new Gamma quadrant species whose culture bore similarities to that of the protocol-obsessed Tak-Tak. But Baines had no idea where she was.  
  
He wandered aimlessly through the gardens, noticing that the rosebushes seemed to have shrunk a little since Boothby had retired. Kathryn had once told him Boothby brought her fresh roses every morning when she was a cadet. He crouched down and plucked a pale-yellow stem, lifting the bloom to his nose. It smelled like her. He was struck with a sudden sharp pang of regret. What if he’d completely blown it with her? What if she never spoke to him again?  
  
“You know, the new gardener wouldn’t take kindly to you messing with her roses, son,” a reedy voice said beside him. Chakotay looked up.  
  
“Admiral Patterson. How are you, sir?”  
  
“Old,” Patterson replied cheerfully. “At least, according to the good Dr Crusher. I’ve just come from my yearly physical. I’ve been ordered to get more exercise.”  
  
“I take it you’re starting with a turn around the gardens?”  
  
Patterson grinned. “Not exactly, Captain. I’m here to talk to you.”  
  
“Me?” Chakotay stood to face him.  
  
“Walk with me,” the Admiral invited, turning onto one of the meandering pathways. Chakotay fell into step beside him.  
  
“What can I do for you, Admiral?”  
  
“It’s about Katie,” Patterson answered.  
  
Chakotay’s steps faltered. “Is she -?”  
  
“Oh no, she’s fine. Well, actually we’re not sure.”  
  
Chakotay stopped. “I think you’d better explain.”  
  
Patterson sighed, taking his elbow and leading him to a bench. “You know I’m with Starfleet Intelligence these days?” he asked as they sat. Chakotay nodded. “Well, we’ve been investigating a people-smuggling operation in the Sappora system –”  
  
“The Syndicate?” Chakotay interrupted. He was starting to get a bad feeling about this.  
  
“Yes. They’ve been abducting women and girls from all over the quadrant. Girls travelling alone, girls in precarious circumstances. We’ve had reports of seventeen young women disappearing in the past six months, and those are just the ones Starfleet knows about.”  
  
“Go on.”  
  
“The Syndicate runs a holocomplex on New Sydney. Gaming, bars, nightclubs and the like. And, ah, personal entertainment.”  
  
“Prostitution?” Chakotay’s bad feeling was fast becoming a sick ache in the pit of his stomach.  
  
“In various forms. Mostly live dancers, but there are quite a few net-girls in one part of the complex. That’s where we suspect most of the abductees are being sent.”  
  
“And what does this have to do with Admiral Janeway?” Chakotay asked, although he was pretty sure he already knew the answer.  
  
“We’ve sent her in undercover to gather intel and relay it back to us so we can break up the operation and recover the kidnapped women.”  
  
“Undercover?” Chakotay wiped a hand over his forehead. “You mean you sent her in to have mind-sex with strangers, maybe even do a little whoring. For the _Orion Syndicate_.” He wasn’t sure if he was trembling with fury or horror. “You know they’ll kill her if they find out who she is.”  
  
Patterson, to his credit, looked shamefaced. “She knew the risks going in, Chakotay. She volunteered for this.”  
  
“And now she’s missing,” Chakotay deduced.  
  
“It’s been six weeks since she last checked in with her contact on New Sydney,” Patterson nodded. “We’ve become … concerned.”  
  
Chakotay wanted to punch him. “Give me everything you know about this operation. And I want Kathryn’s last known movements and the name of her contact.”  
  
“Why?”  
  
Chakotay stood. “Because I’m going after her.”  
  
Patterson smiled. “Somehow I thought you might say that. You’ll get what you need, Captain. But first there’s someone else you need to speak with.”  
  
“And who might that be?”  
  
“An old colleague of yours,” Patterson answered, getting to his feet as well. “She goes by Dr Annika Hansen these days, but I’m betting you still think of her as Seven of Nine.”  
  
=/\=  
  
Seven of Nine.  
  
This was one reunion Chakotay was not looking forward to.  
  
He’d managed to avoid exchanging more than a few polite words at official functions with Seven since she’d dumped him three years earlier. It wasn’t that she’d broken his heart; he accepted that he was an idiot, but he wasn’t stupid enough to think that Seven had ever been the great love of his life. No, it was that he felt an uncomfortable, creeping sense of shame whenever he thought of her, and since B’Elanna had talked sense into him, he felt even worse over the way he’d treated her.  
  
She was standing with her back to him, clad in a tailored skirt-suit, flax-coloured hair in an elegant twist. Chakotay cleared his throat. “Uh, hi, Seven.”  
  
She turned. He was expecting coolness, or at the very least impassivity, but Seven was nothing if not surprising. “Chakotay,” she said warmly, and she closed the distance between them and hugged him.  
  
“I wasn’t expecting that,” he said honestly, when she released him.  
  
Seven’s mouth curled at one corner, and it reminded him so strongly of Kathryn that for a minute he felt weak. “You expected me to be angry with you?”  
  
“Well, yes, I did.”  
  
She shrugged one shoulder. “As Commander Paris might say, life is too short to hold a grudge. It’s good to see you, Captain.”  
  
“You too,” he answered, surprising himself by meaning it. “So, what is it you’re supposed to show me?”  
  
She beckoned him over to the table where she’d been working. “This is a dataport.” She picked up a small circular device and twisted it apart, holding up one of the segments. “This piece is implanted at the occipital bone. It enables an interface between the brain and a data source.” She raised the other segment. “This piece is a data crystal, which enables information to be stored and transmitted between a computer and the brain. A third component can also be used,” Seven continued, picking up another component from the table, “either to download information from a different source into the data crystal, or to enable the connection of two humanoid brains.”  
  
Chakotay studied the three separate pieces. “What’s their relevance?”  
  
“Dataports are commonly used for a number of purposes. Thieves use them, for example, to steal and transmit data. Net-girls use them to transmit sexual visualisations to clients, often in conjunction with a holographic simulation downloaded into the data crystal to enhance the realism of the chosen scenario. And the Borg have used them on occasion. I was fitted with one myself by the Borg Queen when I agreed to return to the Collective in exchange for Voyager’s freedom. In that instance, the implant enabled the Queen to hear my thoughts, and I hers, without requiring my full assimilation.”  
  
“And now I understand why you’re involved in all of this.” Chakotay leaned a hip against the table. “I assume Kathryn will have been fitted with one of these?”  
  
“The information supplied by her contact on New Sydney would indicate that the Admiral was successful in infiltrating the Orion Syndicate and is posing as a net-girl. So, yes, we expect she is fitted with a dataport.”  
  
“Is it dangerous?”  
  
“It’s a mind control device. They are rarely used for benign purposes. As a net-girl, Admiral Janeway’s activities would be limited to providing her clients with sexual imagery. However, should her true identity be discovered, the device can be used against her in various ways. An energy surge can be sent through the device, causing anything from temporary incapacitation to permanent brain damage, depending on the power level. The device can also be used to alter its wearer’s memories.”  
  
Chakotay swallowed against the rise of nausea. “I have to get her out of there.”  
  
Seven put down the dataport components and turned to face him. “I agree, Captain. And I’ll be coming with you.”  
  
“It’s too dangerous.”  
  
“Irrelevant. I am familiar with this technology. You are not. Without my assistance, your mission will fail.”  
  
Chakotay raised an eyebrow. “You can take the girl out of the Borg …”  
  
Seven offered him an un-Borg-like smirk. “Resistance is futile, Chakotay. And in this instance, Starfleet Intelligence agrees with me. When you leave for the Sappora system, I will be aboard your vessel.”  
  
Chakotay conceded defeat. “Then we’d better get going.”  
  
“I look forward to being on Voyager again.”  
  
“Oh, we won’t be taking Voyager – she’s still in spacedock. But don’t worry. I know just the ship for this mission.”  
  
=/\=  
  
“What the hell are you two doing here?”  
  
Commanders Paris and Torres swivelled their chairs in unison to face their Captain, one from the helm, one from the engineering station. Tom was first to reply. “Come on, Chakotay, do you really think I’d let you pilot the Flyer? God only knows what you’d do to her.”  
  
B’Elanna snickered.  
  
Chakotay turned his glare on her. “And just who’s looking after Miral?”  
  
“Miral is with her grandparents. She’s fine. Stop looking for excuses to kick us off, Chakotay. Admiral Janeway is in trouble and we’re going with you to help her, and that’s final.” B’Elanna turned back to her station, then tossed over her shoulder, “Hi, Seven.”  
  
“Commander.” Seven’s voice carried suppressed amusement. She slid behind the science station. Grumpily, Chakotay took Ops.  
  
“All aboard?” Tom asked cheerfully. “All right then. Delta Flyer to McKinley Control, we are ready to depart.”  
  
~You’re a go, Delta Flyer,~ replied the controller. ~Releasing docking clamps. Proceed at one-quarter impulse until you’ve cleared the solar system. Safe travels.~  
  
Tom grinned, and B’Elanna reached over to punch him on the shoulder. “You heard what he said. Quarter impulse, Helmboy. Don’t be an idiot.”  
  
He sent her a mock-wounded look. “Don’t I always play by the rules?”  
  
“You don’t really want me to answer that. Just save the fancy flying for when we might actually need it, okay?”  
  
“I am not certain Mr Paris’ brand of fancy flying is ever truly needed outside of one of his questionable holoprograms,” Seven chipped in.  
  
“Hey,” protested Tom.  
  
Despite the gravity of the mission, Chakotay couldn’t help smiling. “Just like old times,” he muttered, then turned back to studying Kathryn’s communiqués to Starfleet Intel.  
  
=/\=  
  
“You have absolutely no idea where she is?” Chakotay wanted to reach through the comm screen and throttle the haughty Trill woman.  
  
Yanas Tigan stared down her patrician nose at him. ~As I told you, Captain, Admiral Janeway’s last contact with me was seven weeks ago. She reported that she was working as a net-girl in the local holocomplex and had befriended a number of the other workers. She was gathering information and believed she was close to identifying the traffickers. That’s all I can tell you.~  
  
“Are there any other net-bars on the planet?”  
  
~Not to my knowledge. I suggest you try some of the other solar systems. This area of space is ruled by the Orion Syndicate.~ Tigan gave a small shrug. ~She could be anywhere. I’m sorry, Captain, but I risk my life and my company if I get any further involved. You’re on your own.~  
  
The screen went black.  
  
“Damn it!” Chakotay slapped the heel of his hand on the console, then drew in a slow breath. Throwing a tantrum wasn’t going to do Kathryn any good.  
  
“Seven, start scanning for human lifesigns on any planet the sensors can reach. B’Elanna, monitor communications on all subspace channels. Tom, lay in a course, search pattern beta. I’ll contact Starfleet Intel.”  
  
“Aye,” chorused three voices, and B’Elanna added, “We’ll find her, Chakotay. Whatever it takes.”


	5. The Little Rose

**IV. The Little Rose**  
  
“Tell me your name, little flower.”  
  
Kathryn stalled; she hadn’t actually thought about a pseudonym. When she’d taken the job at the bar on Relva VII, she’d just called herself Kate, figuring it was a common enough name, but something told her that this time she’d be better off dissociating from any hints of her true identity. She thought quickly. _Little flower… little rose…_  
  
“Róisín,” she answered, making sure to keep her gaze fixed on the floor. The Orion’s first words to her had made it clear he expected her to be submissive, and she knew it would be best for her mission if she didn’t draw attention to herself.  
  
“Ro-sheen,” he repeated. “Pretty.” He reached out and curled a lock of her hair around his finger. “I am Gailis. We will be at your new home in just a few minutes. When we arrive, Kovan will process you and give you your assignment.”  
  
The Talosian who’d talked to her at the bar stepped forward, grasping her wrist to hold her in place. Kathryn pulled back a little. “What does processing mean?” she asked. The nervousness in her voice was not entirely feigned. “What kind of assignment?”  
  
“Patience, flower,” Gailis smiled. His communication device chirped twice. “Ah, we’re here.”  
  
He activated the transporter and moments later the three of them rematerialised inside another transporter room. Kathryn guessed she was now in the New Sydney holocomplex. Gailis made a shoo-ing motion, and Kathryn obediently followed Kovan out of the transporter room, the Orion following silently.  
  
The complex appeared to be enormous. Kathryn tried to keep track of the sharp turns and winding corridors, but it was a labyrinth. They passed through a number of doorways, each opened with a security code, but Kovan made sure to block her view of the input panels and she couldn’t make out the code. Eventually they came to a room that resembled a sickbay; it held biobeds and some basic medical instruments, but there was no surgical bay, no laboratory equipment, no autoclaves or imaging chambers.  
  
Kovan selected a medical tricorder and began to scan her. “Not much meat on her,” he addressed Gailis, who lounged against a biobed. “Not as fresh as the usual meat, either. Still, I suppose there’s a market for everything.”  
  
Kathryn bristled. _This is nothing_ , she reminded herself sharply. _Nothing compared to the disrespect those poor, stolen girls have to endure_.  
  
Nothing compared to what she knew she’d have to endure if she passed this assessment. And she fervently hoped she did pass, because if she failed, she’d probably end up dead and then those girls would never be rescued. So she swallowed her pride and stood meekly waiting for the next humiliation.  
  
“Evidence of a fractured cheekbone and a broken nose,” Kovan continued, reading from the tricorder screen. “Looks like they’ve been healed in a Federation medical facility. Almost every single one of her fingers has been broken at some point.”  
  
Gailis cocked his head. “You’ve had a rather violent life, haven’t you, little one?”  
  
Kathryn said nothing.  
  
“You may not believe it now,” the Orion continued, “but you’re going to be much happier in your new life than you were in your old one.”  
  
_I seriously doubt it_ , Kathryn thought, lowering her eyelashes.  
  
Kovan put down his scanning device and moved closer. “Stand still,” he instructed her, walking around her in a slow circle. She felt his eyes on her and tried not to flinch. Finishing his visual inspection, he stood directly in front of her and raised his hands to her face. Kathryn reared back, her hands coming up in a defensive posture, and immediately cursed her Starfleet training. Kovan stopped and looked her in the eye for the first time.  
  
“I won’t hurt you,” he said, his voice surprisingly gentle. She realised he probably assumed what she’d wanted the bartender on Relva VII to believe – that she was escaping an abusive relationship and expected to be hit – and forced herself to lower her hands. Kovan ran his fingers carefully over her cheekbones and jaw.  
  
His thumb rested lightly on Kathryn’s lower lip. “Open your mouth, sweetheart.” Kathryn complied, and he inspected her teeth. She felt like livestock.  
  
Kovan stepped back and nodded to Gailis. The Orion slithered closer. “Take off your clothes, flower,” he instructed silkily.  
  
Kathryn balked.  
  
For the first time, Gailis’ smile faded. “You can either undress yourself, or I can undress you. I warn you – you would prefer the former option.”  
  
Kathryn shrugged off her shawl, reached behind her to unfasten the tight little dress she’d worn for her shift at the bar on Relva VII and let it drop to her feet. She toed off her slippers and stood straight, keeping her face impassive.  
  
“All of it.”  
  
_Think of the mission_ , Kathryn reminded herself. She unclasped her bra and let it fall, then thumbed off her panties.  
  
Gailis’ smile widened. He lifted a hand, skimming it from her shoulder, inward along her collarbone and over her chest. “No visible scars,” he murmured. “Good proportions, if a little skinny. Small breasts.” He weighed them in his hands and Kathryn steeled herself not to react. “Firm, though. Quite acceptable.” He pinched her nipples to harden them and Kathryn caught her breath involuntarily. “Responsive,” Gailis commented, his smile broadening.  
  
_His patella_ , Kathryn thought. _That’s the first bone I’m going to break. Then the phalanges, one by one_.  
  
Gailis trailed his hands along her sides. One came to rest on her hip. The other dipped inward, lower.  
  
_The clavicle next_. Kathryn clenched her teeth as the Orion’s fingers slid between her thighs. _And then I’ll crush his larynx. I’m going to cause this green-skinned bastard maximum pain_.  
  
She held herself completely still, staring at a point on the far wall, as Gailis’ fingers stroked between her legs. He was skilled, and she cursed her involuntary physical reaction. Smiling, always smiling, the Orion brought his fingers to his lips and licked at her moisture. “Human women. I’ve always enjoyed your taste.” He stepped back. “You can get dressed now. You’ve passed.”  
  
Trying not to shake, Kathryn picked her clothes up from the floor and yanked her dress over her head.  
  
“Kovan, fit her with a dataport then bring her to the chambers. We’ll begin her training tomorrow.” He patted Kathryn’s cheek. “I look forward to getting to know you better, little Róisín. Sleep well.”  
  
=/\=  
  
The dataport implant itched. Kathryn sat on her hands to avoid scratching at it, trying to pay attention to Kovan’s instructions.  
  
“The transceiver contains a data crystal,” he explained. “If the client has a preferred scenario, it’s loaded onto the crystal and the transceiver is attached to your implant to download the scenario parameters. The client attaches a temporary transceiver to his occipital bone. This piece is the transmitter. It contains the holographic program and also acts as a relay, sending your data to the client’s transceiver.”  
  
“My data?”  
  
“The visualisations you’ll provide to service the client. You can draw on your own memories and adapt them to fit the scenario, or you can invent them.”  
  
“Invent them? Like … fantasies?”  
  
Kovan smirked. “The best net-girls are the ones with the wildest imaginations.”  
  
Seven of Nine had explained how the technology worked, but now that she was about to put it into use, Kathryn was finding that the practice of it was a lot more unnerving than the theory.  
  
Kovan finished tapping instructions into the console in the middle of the holosuite and clipped a transceiver to his skull, handing Kathryn her own uplink unit. “We’ll start with something straightforward - a basic bedchamber scenario. Activate your transceiver,” he instructed her, and Kathryn tapped the tiny dial that switched it on. “Good. You should be receiving the parameters.”  
  
Kathryn’s mind filled with an image of a large white bed in the middle of a darkened chamber. Candles glowed gently in the corners of the room, guttering slightly in the breeze from an open window. She could almost smell the candlewax and the faint scent of jasmine carried on the breeze. And then Kovan appeared beside the bed. Kathryn gasped.  
  
“Picture yourself walking towards me.” It was Kovan’s voice, but the Kovan in her mind’s eye wasn’t speaking. Kathryn’s heart started pounding. She swallowed and concentrated on moving toward the Kovan in her mind.  
  
“Good,” she heard the real Kovan say approvingly. “Now touch me.”  
  
“Touch you?”  
  
“In your imagination,” he said, slightly impatient.  
  
Kathryn pictured herself reaching out. In her mind’s image, her hand touched Kovan’s face, stroking his jaw. It felt real. She jerked back.  
  
The vision-Kovan reached out and trailed one finger along the side of her face and down her throat. Kathryn gave a strangled squeak. He moved closer and she felt hands cupping her breasts, stroking her, the pads of his fingers playing over her nipples. Automatically her own hands flew to her chest, half-expecting to come in contact with male fingers caressing her, but she only connected with her own flesh. She closed her eyes, trying to will the sensations away.  
  
“Don’t do that,” Kovan said sharply, and her eyes flew open. The vision-Kovan stepped back from her, and the real Kovan went on more mildly, “You can learn to control your reactions. I’ll teach you some techniques that will allow you to separate yourself from the experience. But in the meantime…”  
  
She heard the change in his voice, and the vision-Kovan moved toward her again. He dipped his head and she felt his lips on her neck, moving lower. His arms came around her waist, pulling her against his body. Kathryn started to shake. He was tall and strong, his body firm, and it had been so long, and he seemed to know just how she liked to be touched …  
  
She yanked the transceiver unit from her implant and threw it away from her, scooting backward on the holosuite floor. Kovan – the real Kovan – was grinning at her from the opposite side of the room. “I take it you enjoyed that?”  
  
She couldn’t quite catch her breath; her skin tingled. “Is it supposed to feel like that? So real?”  
  
Kovan laughed. “You seem to be particularly sensitive to the link, and Gailis was right about you – you’re very responsive. I’m betting you’re going to become one of our most popular girls.”  
  
Kathryn’s stomach twisted. She looked away.  
  
Kovan removed his own transceiver and pushed away from the wall he’d been leaning against. “You think that was intense? Wait until you pick up a flesh job.”  
  
“A what? What the hell is a flesh job?” Kathryn had the feeling she really wasn’t going to like the answer to her question.  
  
“You’ve just experienced what we call a mind job. A flesh job incorporates physical contact.” Kovan was smirking. “The sensations a client experiences through the link are exponentially heightened if you’re actually touching him as well.”  
  
“Touching him how?”  
  
“However he wants,” Kovan replied. “Or, more accurately, however he pays to be touched. There are various levels of contact on the pricing scale, starting from performing a fully-clothed exotic dance for your client and going all the way up to … well, I’m sure you can figure it out.”  
  
Kathryn shook her head, feeling sick. “I won’t do that.”  
  
Kovan just smiled. “You’ll do whatever you’re told to do, Róisín. Haven’t you been paying attention? You’re Syndicate property now. You’ll be well compensated, and if you make enough latinum you might even be able to buy your way out of your contract. Unless you’re sold at the slave market first, of course.”  
  
He picked up her transceiver from the floor and tossed it to her. Kathryn caught it automatically. “I think we’re done here. Gailis wants you to start working the day after tomorrow. Go and eat something, and we can start on those mental discipline techniques after lunch.”  
  
=/\=  
  
The comm terminal beeped as Kathryn stepped out of the shower. She wrapped herself tightly in a towel and activated the terminal. Gailis’ smiling face appeared.  
  
~Good morning, Róisín. Your first client has arrived and is waiting for you in Holosuite 5. I’m sending you the scenario parameters. Familiarise yourself with them and prepare accordingly. Don’t disappoint me, little one.~

The screen blinked off, and Kathryn exhaled, trying to quell the knot in her stomach. She fitted the transmitter unit onto her console and activated the download, watching on the terminal screen as the details of the client’s scenario appeared. He wanted to experience sex in a beachside setting. Kathryn couldn’t help a small smirk. A long time ago she and Justin had gone to Risa and he’d talked her into a tumble on a secluded shoreline. As she recalled, the sand had been a problem. Still, this was fantasy; she could probably draw on that memory and turn it into something the client would enjoy.  
  
The whole idea of it sickened her. Sharing memories of intimacy with her long-dead fiancé for the pleasure of a stranger – for latinum, no less – felt like the worst kind of betrayal. Not for the first time, she wished there was some other, less personal way to fulfil her mission; but if this was what it took to break up the slave-trafficking operation and save those innocent girls, this was what she would do.  
  
Kathryn dressed quickly in thick leggings, boots and a high-necked sweater. Her client would visualise her in whatever he chose – a bikini, a robe, nothing at all, for all she cared. It didn’t matter, because he would never touch her; this entire transaction would take place in their minds. She scooped up her hardware and headed down to Holosuite 5.  
  
The client sat on the other side of a forcefield. Kovan had told her that for the mind jobs, the forcefield was set to scatter light particles like a two-way mirror so that the client never actually saw the net-girl in person. He’d know he was entering the mind of the right girl, though; the transceivers the girls used were keyed to their unique specifications. She studied him through the barrier: a short, slight Andorian with nervous eyes and a sweat-sheen on his forehead. Kathryn swallowed thickly and activated her transceiver.  
  
In her mind, the Andorian moved jerkily toward her across the sand, and it took all her willpower not to back away. _You don’t have to see him_ , she reminded herself. She concentrated on visualising Justin’s face, but it was hard; he’d been gone for so long, and she could barely recall the shape of his jaw, the colour of his eyes.  
  
The Andorian was close now. He reached for her, running his hands over her shoulders and down her arms, his fingers coming to rest on her waist. She felt the caress, felt his hands moving up, up, curling over her breasts. She gave up on Justin and conjured up an anonymous, imaginary lover; someone tall and broad with grey-speckled dark hair and tawny skin, and a tattoo on his –  
  
Kathryn’s eyes sprang open and on the other side of the forcefield she saw the Andorian leap back with an irritated shout. _God damn it! Not him. Not again_ …  
  
The Andorian was reaching for his transceiver and blustering about wanting his money back. Quickly, she shut her eyes and pictured herself smoothing her hands on his scrawny blue chest. She heard his complaints subside, and in her vision he put his hands on her again. She leaned into his touch and imagined herself running her tongue over his throat, so smooth and warm and golden … She stalled.  
  
_Just go with it, Kathryn. Get through this, whatever it takes_.  
  
It wasn’t as though she was a stranger to fantasising about her former first officer. Even after three years of outright hostility between them, not to mention the cold war they’d sunk into during that last year in the Delta quadrant, she seemed to be constitutionally incapable of fantasising about anyone else. It was downright depressing, and it was the reason she’d avoided getting involved with anyone since they’d returned to Earth. The few men she’d taken to her bed in the months after they’d got home had all been made from the same tall-dark-and-handsome mould, but it wasn’t enough. None of them were him. She’d given up after that, resigning herself to a life without companionship.  
  
_Focus_ , she told herself fiercely before she could get really maudlin. _You have a job to do_.  
  
She pressed her lips to his smooth, broad chest, imagining the male scent that had so often taunted her on those long Delta quadrant evenings when they worked in her quarters, sitting closer than strictly necessary on her couch and punctuating their conversation with a touch here, a flirtatious smile there. She slid her arms around his solid shoulders, rising on tiptoe to touch her mouth to his, licking at his lips, feeling him pull her close. His hands roamed the length of her back, stroking down her spine, feathering into the dip of her backside. Kathryn bit down on a sigh. She felt his lips on her throat, travelling to that spot just under her ear that made her shudder, and she pushed herself into him, craving the heat she felt licking through her nerves, wanting more of his hands and his mouth and his strong, hard limbs wrapped around her.  
  
She closed her eyes to savour the feelings, picturing his fingers skating over her breasts and belly. She felt him drift with her to the floor, moving between her legs, sliding inside her as she opened to him without hesitation. She moved her hips against him, grinding down to feel him thicken even more inside her, felt herself begin to tremble, felt her orgasm wash over her like a tidal wave.  
  
A short male grunt, almost a snort, made Kathryn open her eyes and turn her head toward the forcefield. The Andorian lay on the other side of it, facing her but not seeing her, his blue face dark with post-coital satisfaction. She bolted up from the floor and snatched the transceiver from her dataport, not wanting to be connected to the Andorian for one moment longer. Her body still tingling from the aftershocks of her orgasm, she ran back to her room and straight into the sonic shower, where she bumped her forehead none-too-gently against the cubicle wall, biting her lip and trying not to cry.  
  
Gailis’ smile was even wider than usual when he came to her room an hour later. “Well done, little flower,” he complimented her. “Your client was very enthusiastic about you. In fact, he even enquired about buying you outright. You can’t imagine how pleased I am with you.”  
  
Kathryn had recovered most of her composure. “Good. Can I have the afternoon off?”  
  
His good mood dimmed a little, but he cocked his head and nodded agreement. “You’ll do an extra session tomorrow to make up for it,” he smiled, stroking a finger under her jaw. “Rest well, little Róisín.”  
  
=/\=  
  
Yanas Tigan reminded Kathryn of Alynna Nechayev – spare, pale-skinned and imperious, with killer cheekbones.  
  
“I don’t trust Starfleet,” was the first thing she said when Kathryn finally managed to bypass the security routines on her data terminal and open an encrypted comm channel. “But I trust the Orion Syndicate less. They almost ruined my business and my son is in prison because of them. Anything I can do to throw a wrench in their works is just fine with me.”  
  
“Not to mention helping to save dozens of young women who’ve been abducted and forced into sexual slavery,” Kathryn said pointedly.  
  
“Yes, that too,” Yanas said, airily waving a hand, “but I’ll leave the heroics to you ‘fleeters. One Starfleet do-gooder in my family is enough.”  
  
“Your daughter?” Kathryn recalled.  
  
“She’s a lieutenant stationed on Deep Space Nine. Ezri and I don’t speak often.”  
  
“I’m sure you’re very proud of her all the same,” Kathryn said evenly. “Not to mention glad that she’s been able to make the most of her life instead of prostituting herself for the Orion Syndicate.”  
  
“I get the point, Admiral. Tell me what you have and I’ll make sure it gets to Starfleet.”  
  
“Unfortunately I don’t have much at this point. It’s been almost two weeks and I haven’t been allowed to leave this section of the complex, and I’ve had no contact with any Syndicate members other than Gailis and Kovan. I have been talking with a few of the women here, though. I’m sending you all the data I’ve gathered on the circumstances of their abductions.”  
  
The transceiver blinked twice and Kathryn knew her time was up. “The security codes are cycling, Ms Tigan. I have to go before my transmission is detected. I’ll contact you when I can.”  
  
=/\=  
  
But Kathryn’s luck ran out before she could reach Yanas Tigan again.  
  
Seven had shown her how to modify her transmitter device to send a communication signal and how her transceiver could be adjusted to bypass her computer’s safeguard protocols, but Kathryn had failed to anticipate the level of paranoia employed by the Orion Syndicate’s security staff. The next time she tried to contact Tigan, they came for her before her transceiver could warn her.  
  
It was the first time Kathryn had seen Gailis without his ubiquitous smile. “Who are you?” he demanded when she was unceremoniously brought before him, her arms held tight behind her back by one of the burly Orion guards. “Who do you work for?”  
  
She was silent.  
  
He threatened her for a while, but when she remained unmoved, he shrugged. “Take her to Kovan,” he ordered the guards. “We’ll send her to the Stameris complex.”  
  
Kathryn dug in her heels when the guard tugged at her elbow. “What are you going to do to me?”  
  
Gailis’ smile was back. “Well, I could tell you, little flower, but it won’t matter. You won’t remember it anyway.”  
  
There was no sign of the mild humour she’d seen from Kovan previously. The guards deposited her on one of the biobeds in the medical bay, and Kovan attached an uplink to her dataport and tapped commands into a computer. Kathryn felt a buzzing sensation in her skull that grew louder and harsher. Shaking her head to clear it, she felt dizzy. “What are you doing?” she gasped.  
  
“Goodbye, Róisín,” he said, and she lost consciousness.  
  
=/\=  
  
There were things that she knew.  
  
She knew her name was Róisín, and that she’d been born on Earth. She knew she was on Stameris and that she worked for Broik, the Ferengi, as a net-girl in the Syndicate complex. She knew she’d had lovers – otherwise how could she have done her job? - she remembered a young man with dark hair and solemn blue eyes, and an older man she always imagined alongside a dog. She knew she’d once had friends, and a family, but she couldn’t quite remember their names.  
  
But there were things she didn’t know.  
  
She didn’t know how long she’d been on Stameris, or how she got here. She didn’t know why her dreams were about exploring the stars. She didn’t know why she had a constant, pervading feeling that she was letting somebody down, that she was here for a reason and she had to escape. She didn’t know how much longer she could keep bribing the Ferengi to keep her here so she wouldn’t be sold at the slave market.  
  
She knew she hated flesh jobs, and she knew that if she wanted to buy her way out of here, she’d have to do them anyway.  
  
She didn’t know the man standing before her in the holosuite - her client – or why she wanted to touch him. She didn’t know why her breath caught and her stomach fluttered, or why when he spoke she felt like he’d caressed her.  
  
All she knew was that she really, really wanted to find out.


	6. The Wrong Side of Right

**V. The Wrong Side of Right**  
  
The sector was filled with Syndicate-controlled entertainment complexes, slave markets and weapons depots. Chakotay, who’d had little contact with Orions in the past, couldn’t believe that an area of space like this existed – no, _thrived_ – sandwiched between the Federation and the Klingon Empire.  
  
B’Elanna had modified the Delta Flyer’s warp signature to resemble an Antaran personal shuttle, and Tom had rigged a holofilter they used to hide their identities whenever they communicated with on-planet installations or other ships. Seven scanned continuously for human lifesigns. They’d found plenty, but none of them were Kathryn’s.  
  
They’d been searching for two weeks before they reached Stameris and Seven’s console lit up. “Captain, I’ve detected the Admiral’s biosignature in a complex on the southern hemisphere.”  
  
Chakotay entered the cockpit from the Flyer’s aft compartment, where he’d been taking the time for a quick shave. “Can you beam her out?”  
  
“It’s too heavily shielded.”  
  
“Hail the complex.”  
  
Tom activated the holoprojection and nodded. A sour-faced Ferengi appeared on screen. ~Welcome to the Stameris Arena. I am Broik, purveyor of fine wine and entertainment. How may I help you today?~  
  
“I’m Lopak of the Antaran shuttle Freedom,” Chakotay replied, hoping the holofilter was working. “My crew is interested in partaking of your entertainment offerings. May two of us transport to your complex?”  
  
The Ferengi looked a little more cheerful. ~Of course. Strangers are always welcome here. As is your latinum,~ he chortled.  
  
“Thank you. One of my crew has quite specific tastes that he hopes you can cater to.”  
  
~If he desires it, I can almost guarantee I have it, sir. If your crewman would like to transport to the welcoming hall, I’ll greet him personally and we can discuss his … tastes.~  
  
“I’m sure he looks forward to it. Lopak out.” Chakotay leaned back in his chair. “Seven, start working on a way to transport through their shields in case we can’t get her out. Tom, I need you at the helm. B’Elanna, you’re with me.”  
  
“Captain,” Seven interrupted. “Do you intend to disguise yourself?”  
  
“I wasn’t planning on it.”  
  
She let her gaze rest on his tattoo. “You have a distinctive marking. I can occlude it with a dermal regenerator. It will only take a few minutes.”  
 Chakotay nodded impatiently. “Make it quick, then.”  
  
=/\=  
  
Dressed in leathers and roughspun cloaks, Chakotay and B’Elanna beamed into the unshielded foyer of the Stameris Arena. The Ferengi hurried to meet them. “Welcome, honoured guests! I am Broik. And you are…?”  
  
Chakotay thought quickly. “Miller,” he answered, stepping forward and holding out a hand for the Ferengi to shake. “This is my colleague, Brigitte.”  
  
The Ferengi unclasped Chakotay’s hand and turned to B’Elanna. His beady little eyes widened. “Such beauty,” he gasped. He grabbed B’Elanna’s hand and lavished kisses on the back of it. “Please, consider me at your _personal_ disposal, madam.”  
  
B’Elanna glared at Chakotay over the Ferengi’s head. “Thanks,” she muttered brusquely, tugging her hand back.  
  
Trying not to laugh, Chakotay tapped Broik’s shoulder. “You mentioned you provide personal entertainment?”  
  
“Yes, yes! We have a wide selection of delectable young ladies, or young men if that’s your preference. Your captain mentioned you have a particular requirement?”  
  
“I do. May I browse your selection?” Chakotay wanted to spit the words out even as he spoke them.  
  
“Follow me,” Broik simpered, taking B’Elanna’s hand and tucking it into the crook of his arm. She had to stoop slightly to walk beside him. Chakotay followed, listening to the Ferengi try to charm his friend and trying to hide his grin at the looks B’Elanna was throwing him over her shoulder.  
  
They passed through a discreet doorway and into a darkened room with a long bar along the far wall. Small tables were scattered throughout, many of them occupied. A large Gallamite man served behind the bar, and scantily-clad women of various species wandered through the room carrying trays of drinks. Against one wall was a discreet row of data cubicles with holo-interfaces. Chakotay could see three or four men there, scrolling through what he assumed was the holographic catalogue of entertainers. _Like ordering from a replicator menu_ , he thought, disgusted.  
  
Broik waved an arm in the direction of the cubicles. “Please, Mr Miller, take your time.” He tightened his hold on B’Elanna’s arm. “Madam, perhaps you’d allow me to entertain you at the bar while your friend makes his selection?”  
  
“I’m sure Brigitte would be happy to keep you company,” Chakotay offered, straight-faced.  
  
“Excellent!” Broik beamed, sweeping B’Elanna with him. “May I buy you a drink, Brigitte?”  
  
“You owe me one,” B’Elanna hissed in Chakotay’s ear as she passed.  
  
=/\=  
  
Chakotay took a seat at the cubicle nearest the bar where he could keep an eye on B’Elanna and her admirer, and activated the holo-catalogue.  
  
 _Input parameters_ , flashed the screen. _Species, gender, height, body type_?  
  
Chakotay selected _human, female, petite, slim_.  
  
 _Eight matches_ , the computer informed him. _Begin display_?  
  
He tapped the key and the holoimage sprang into life, showing a dark-skinned woman in her thirties standing on a beach, wearing a brief red bikini. _Next_ , he ordered, trying not to think about how the woman had come to be here. He scrolled through human women of varying ages and colouring until he reached the sixth.  
  
It was Kathryn.  
  
The holoimage showed her reclining gracefully on a rumpled white bed. She wore an emerald-green lace bra and panties. One leg was slightly bent, accentuating the curve of her body, and there was a faint, seductive smile on her face. Chakotay’s mouth went dry. He tapped the _select_ key and stood.  
  
Broik spotted him as he made his way back over to the bar. “Mr Miller! I take it you’ve found something to your taste?”  
  
“Very much so,” he answered a little hoarsely. “I’d like to book some time with Number 347.”  
  
“Ah, Róisín! An excellent choice, sir. She’s very popular.” Broik leered. “She’s occupied at the moment, I’m afraid, but she should be available shortly. Take a seat and we can discuss what type of entertainment you’d like.”  
  
Chakotay eased onto a stool, exchanging a glance with B’Elanna. “Type of entertainment?”  
  
“Yes, we can offer everything from a simple link experience all the way up to full contact. Of course, the price reflects the, heh, _intimacy_ of the entertainment.”  
  
B’Elanna looked away before the Ferengi could see the disgust on her face. Chakotay tried to keep his expression blank. “How long would the full experience give me with her?”  
  
“An hour,” Broik smirked. “And believe me when I tell you it would be the best hour of your life.”  
  
“How much?”  
  
Broik named a price that made him blanch. “Done.”  
  
“Excellent!” The Ferengi produced a datapadd. “If you’ll just authorise the transaction here…”  
  
Chakotay pressed his thumb to the datapadd. Broik handed him a transceiver. “Attach this to your occipital bone when you enter the holosuite. You activate it by pressing this button here.”  
  
Chakotay nodded. “I need a word with my colleague, Mr Broik.”  
  
“Of course! I’ll leave the two of you alone. Feel free to enjoy the bar. I’ll return for you when Róisín is ready.” He turned back to B’Elanna, kissing the back of her hand. “If there’s anything I can do for _you_ , madam, please don’t hesitate to ask.”  
  
B’Elanna exhaled slowly when Broik had gone. “You found her, Chakotay?”  
  
He nodded. “I need you to return to the Flyer. Find out what progress Seven’s made with the transporters. I have a feeling that Ferengi won’t give Kathryn up without a fight.”  
  
=/\=  
  
“What’s a nice girl like you doing in a place like this?”  
  
Chakotay wanted to kick himself. _Of all the stupid_ … But he’d taken one look at Kathryn, perched on the bar stool in that heart-stoppingly flimsy dress with her hair tousled over her shoulders, and his brain had melted into a puddle.  
  
She wasn’t looking at him the way she should be. He’d expected shock at seeing him here, confusion, a little anger, maybe a glare and a haughty tilt of her head. But she looked tense, wary, and he could see her chest rising and falling quickly as though she was a little breathless. He realised he was staring, and snapped his gaze up to her face.  
  
“Hi,” she said in the husky voice that had defined his dreams for the past decade. “Are you new in town?”  
  
“Uh…” _Oh, right, the scenario_. He was supposed to be visiting this seedy little bar, and she was supposed to be seducing him.  Chakotay swallowed hard. “Yeah.”  
  
She uncrossed her legs and slid off the stool, slinking towards him. “Are you looking for some company?” she purred, moving into his personal space. She raised one hand and trailed a fingernail over his jaw.  
  
She was too close. Chakotay stepped back, flustered. “Uh, sure.” He glanced around wildly. “Hey, do you want to play some pool?”  
  
Kathryn looked confused. “Okay.”  
  
“Great!” He practically ran over to the table and busied himself racking the balls. “Ladies first,” he said, handing her a cue.  
  
She took the cue and stepped up to the table, brushing deliberately against him as she bent over, widening her stance as she prepared to break. Chakotay looked down at the silk-clad bottom directly in front of him and exhaled shakily. What kind of panties was she wearing? If she leaned forward just a little further, he’d be able to see …  
  
The crack of her cue hitting the white ball made him jump. Kathryn stood straight, smiling. “I guess I’m on solids.”  
  
She circled the table, selected her next shot, glanced up at him, and missed. Deliberately. “Your shot,” she said. Her fingers slid over his as she passed him the cue.  
  
He potted a couple of stripes then flubbed his next on a difficult angle. She missed her next, an easy shot directly over the pocket. Chakotay sank his next three. She missed another one.  
  
“Are you throwing this game?” he asked. He’d never seen her play so badly in his life.  
  
Kathryn let the cue rest on the table and sauntered up to him. “Is this really the game you came here to play?”  
  
“Uh…”  
  
She shifted closer and let her hand drift onto his chest. The gesture was so familiar he had to close his eyes. “Kathryn,” he whispered.  
  
He felt her hair brush his chin as she leaned in to press her mouth to his throat. “Call me whatever you like,” she murmured. He felt her hand slide up his neck and her fingers press against the transceiver at the base of his skull.  
  
Instantly, he felt as though her hands were everywhere on his body, stroking, pressing, teasing. Chakotay’s eyes snapped open and he jumped back, gasping. “What the hell was that?”  
  
Kathryn was staring at him. “That was …” The confusion in her eyes gave way to understanding. “Is this your first link experience?”  
  
He had no idea what was going on here. “Uh, yes.”  
  
She smiled and took his hand, leading him over to a table, pressing him into a chair. She moved her feet either side of him, her thighs cradling his, her hands smoothing down his chest. “Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle,” she whispered in his ear. “Just relax and let me show you the best time of your life.”  
  
“Kathryn!” Chakotay grabbed her hips and held her still before she could sink down onto his lap. “What are you doing?” he hissed.  
  
“What you’re paying me to do,” she said, her eyes clouded with doubt. “I don’t understand. Have I done something wrong?”  
  
Chakotay stared into her eyes, searching for the faintest flicker of recognition. His stomach dropped. “Kathryn,” he said slowly, “do you know who I am?”  
  
She hesitated. “Is this part of your scenario? Because Broik didn’t say anything… Am I supposed to be someone you used to know?”  
  
“You could say that,” Chakotay said slowly.  
  
“Okay,” she answered. “I’ll be your Kathryn.” She pressed closer, letting her mouth touch his temple. “Is she someone you wanted? Loved?”  
  
He swallowed. “Yes.”  
  
“And you were never with her?” Her tongue was doing things to his ear that made him close his eyes.  
  
“No.”  
  
“Then be with me now,” she whispered, and she kissed him.  
  
=/\=  
  
Oh, this was so wrong, so wrong. And yet he couldn’t stop, because she felt so right.  
  
He was kissing her. Kissing Kathryn, sliding his tongue over hers, feeling her nibble at his lips. She was unbuttoning his shirt, slowly, spreading her hands over his chest. His hands were moulded to her body, stroking her back, her waist, her breasts, feeling her shiver in his arms. She tightened her thighs around him and he felt his erection growing painfully hard. And over and around all the sensations of holding her, touching her, in his mind’s eye he could see her writhing over him, drawing him in. Chakotay thought he might explode from the sensory overload.  
  
“Turn the link off,” he gasped, wanting to stop this, never wanting it to end but knowing it had to.  
  
“Are you sure?” she whispered. He heard the hitch in her voice and wondered if she was feeling this too. Was it always like this for her?  
  
He felt her fingers at the transceiver against his skull and the mental images stopped. “Better?” she asked. She ground her pelvis against him.  
  
“Uh,” he groaned. It wasn’t better. Switching off the link just meant his entire concentration was focused on the reality of the woman in his arms. He felt her slither downward between his legs to kneel on the floor. Her fingers worked at his belt, unbuttoning his pants, curling inside. “Kathryn …”  
  
“Shh,” she said, and took him in her mouth.  
  
“Oh, sweet fu-” Chakotay choked as he felt her engulf his cock, her lips stretching over the head and sliding down the shaft. He had to grip the edges of the chair to stop himself from thrusting into her warm, wet mouth. His hands moved into her hair of their own volition, tangling in the silky strands as she sucked at him, drawing back until her tongue swirled around the head of his penis. “Stop,” he gasped, tugging gently at her hair until she raised her head. She licked her lips.  
  
“What do you want?” she asked, her fingers lightly playing over his shaft.  
  
“I don’t –”  
  
She leaned up and pressed her mouth to his chest, a move that pillowed his rigid cock between her silk-clad breasts and made the protest die on his tongue. She wriggled against him a little and his cock jumped, so she slid higher, up the length of his body, climbing onto his lap. Before he realised what he was doing, his fingers were pushing the straps of her dress from her shoulders and down her arms, and he was pressing his face to her naked breasts as she arched against him. He took one nipple between his teeth and tugged, and she cried out, grinding in his lap. Chakotay slid his hands under her ass and yanked her closer, sucking and licking and nipping at her breasts until she was shaking, writhing in his arms. He spread his hands under her backside, slipped his fingers under her silky panties and hardened impossibly more when he felt how slick she was. He dipped a careful finger into her, circling her clitoris, and she bucked against him, panting in his ear.  
  
“Please,” she whimpered, squirming and trying to impale herself on his fingers. “Oh, please.”  
  
Chakotay curled two fingers inside her and stroked his thumb against her nub and she screamed and shuddered, her inner muscles grasping at his fingers, her arms wrapped tight around his shoulders. “God,” he said raggedly, holding her as she floated down from her high, her eyes re-focusing on him. “I’ve wanted to watch you do that for so long.”  
  
For a moment she looked sad. Then she dipped her head and bit gently at his ear. “My turn.”  
  
“You don’t have to –”  
  
She laid a finger against his lips. “I want to.”  
  
So he didn’t stop her as she kissed and licked her way down his chest and stomach and slid her mouth over him again, all the way down until his cock hit the back of her throat and he thought he would give anything for time to stop in that perfect moment. But then she flexed the muscles in her throat and took him even deeper, humming around him, and he groaned and thrust forward helplessly, wanting more, wanting all she could give. She slipped a small hand inside his pants and cupped his balls, stroking gently, and he felt his orgasm begin to rush through him. “Kathryn,” he warned, but she wrapped her other arm around his hips and sucked him deeper, working her throat, and he came with a yell, his hips moving uncontrollably as she milked him of every drop. When he started to soften she rested her chin on his thigh and smiled up at him.  
  
“God,” was all he could say, and her smile widened.  
  
“You know, that would’ve been even more intense with the link,” she told him.  
  
“Any more intense and I think I’d have died.”  
  
She laughed, and he gathered the strength she’d sucked out of him and pulled her up into his lap, his arms around her waist, burying his face in her hair. “Let me do something for you,” he whispered.  
  
“You already did, remember?”  
  
“I want more.” He tightened his arms around her and stood, and she wrapped her legs around his hips as he carried her to the pool table, sweeping the balls away with one hand so he could lay her back on the felt. He reached up under her dress and slowly tugged her panties over her hips and down her legs. When he looked up at her, she was propped on her elbows, her lips parted and her breasts flushed and exposed by the dress that had slipped from her shoulders. She was watching him with pupils so dilated her eyes looked almost black. Chakotay kicked a chair over to the pool table, sat and spread her thighs apart, draping her legs over his shoulders.  
  
He pushed his face into her, licking her lower lips from bottom to top, flattening his tongue on her clit. She was so wet and she tasted so sweet, he wanted to eat her for hours, but from the way she was groaning and shoving herself against his face, from the trembling of her thighs and the clenching of her fingers, he knew she wasn’t going to last that long. He thrust his tongue inside her as far as he could go, curling it upward until it rubbed against the rippled patch of flesh, and she wailed, her hips twisting off the edge of the pool table as she came. He wasn’t going to let her off that easy; he looped his arms under her thighs to hold her still, clamped his teeth over her clit and sucked hard. The second wave hit her even harder than the first. Her legs jerked, her heels beating against his back, her head thudding back on the surface of the pool table as she arched her back and shrieked. Chakotay drove his tongue inside her, drinking as much of her liquid as he could. When her screams dwindled into soft, broken moans he pulled back a little, licking her gently through the aftershocks, stroking her stomach and thighs until her body stopped twitching.  
  
He raised his head to look at her and realised her face was wet with tears.  
  
“I’m sorry,” he said, not knowing what he’d done to make her cry.  
  
She sat up and wiped her face. “What are you sorry for? Nobody has ever made me feel like that.”  
  
He was leaning in to kiss her when he heard a soft chime. “Our time’s up,” she said quietly, looking away from him. She tugged the straps of her dress up over her shoulders and he stepped back so she could slide off the pool table. She stumbled a little on weakened legs and he caught her.  
  
“Thanks,” she mumbled, still avoiding his eyes. “I’d better go. If I stay longer, Broik will dock my pay.”  
  
She hesitated at the doorway, then turned back and said in a rush, “You’ll probably think I say this to all my clients, but I don’t, I mean –” She bit her lip. “Being with you was incredible. I wish …” She trailed off, blushing.  
  
“What do you wish?” he asked.  
  
“I wish it was real,” she whispered. “Your Kathryn doesn’t know what she’s missing.”  
  
Then she was gone, and Chakotay slumped against the wall, thinking that truer words were never spoken.  
  
=/\=  
  
Chakotay transported back to the Flyer and found he couldn’t meet anyone’s eyes.  
  
“So?” demanded B’Elanna, when he’d tried and failed to find words. “Was it her?”  
  
“Yes,” he mumbled. “And no.”  
  
“Explain,” Seven demanded.  
  
“It was Kathryn. But she doesn’t know she’s Kathryn. She thinks she’s a net-girl called Róisín.” He slid behind the Ops panel and tapped on it to give himself something to do with his hands. “It appears she’s had her memory wiped.”  
  
Seven thinned her lips. “That was a possibility I had considered.”  
  
B’Elanna unleashed a string of curses in a mix of Klingon and Standard and kicked violently at the base of her console. Tom put a hand on her arm. “What can we do about it, Seven?”  
  
“I can modify a transceiver to reverse the effects. It would have to be attached to Admiral Janeway’s implant.”  
  
“Can you disable her implant at the same time?” Tom asked. “So the Syndicate can’t mess with her mind again?”  
  
“Yes, but the implant can only be removed surgically, and as long as it’s attached, the Admiral is vulnerable to other forms of attack. Even a disabled implant is susceptible to a directed energy surge.”  
  
“Get started on modifying the transceiver,” Chakotay ordered. He got up from Ops and headed into the Flyer’s aft section. “I’ll update Starfleet.”  
  
He’d just finished sending the encoded transmission when B’Elanna entered the rear compartment and sat on the bunk opposite him. “So. Want to tell me what happened down there?”  
  
“No.”  
  
She watched him not meeting her eyes. “You were down there for a while. The full hour, at least. How long did it take you to figure out she’d lost her memory?”  
  
“Not long.”  
  
“So what were you doing for all that time?”  
  
“Leave it, B’Elanna,” he growled.  
  
“Oh, shit,” she breathed. “Chakotay, tell me you didn’t.”  
  
He was silent.  
  
“You stupid _petaQ_.” B’Elanna sprang to her feet and started pacing. “How could you, Chakotay? She’s still Admiral Janeway, even if she doesn’t know it!” She whirled on him. “How do you think she’s going to feel when she gets her memories back and realises what you did to her? To _her_. To your beloved Kathryn!”  
  
“Shut up, B’Elanna!” Chakotay roared. “I know, all right? _I know_. But it wasn’t like that. She wanted –”  
  
“She _wanted_ you? She’s _paid_ to act like she wants you! You stupid, stupid man!”  
  
The door slid open and Tom poked his head through, taking in the furious half-Klingon and their stony-faced Captain. “Everything okay in here?”  
  
“ _You_ talk sense into him,” B’Elanna spat, pushing past her husband on her way back to the cockpit. “I don’t want to speak to this dishonourable _Ha'DIbaH_ right now.”  
  
Tom came into the rear section and let the door slide shut. “So …” he started.  
  
“So I guess you heard all that.” Chakotay was staring at the floor, elbows on his knees, his hands dangling between them.  
  
“Enough of it,” Tom said carefully, perching opposite him. “Listen, Chakotay, nobody knows what happened down there except you and the Admiral, but I’m guessing it wasn’t as black and white as B’Elanna sees it.”  
  
“No, but it was still wrong, and I knew it,” Chakotay said before he could stop himself. “She’s never going to forgive me. And I won’t blame her.”  
  
There was nothing Tom could say to that, so they sat in silence until Seven came in and informed them she’d finished modifying the transceiver. Tom glanced at Chakotay. He felt sorry for him. “Look, Captain, someone has to get this transceiver to Admiral Janeway, but if you want, I can do it. I’m sure B’Elanna would understand.”  
  
“No. It should be me.” Chakotay pushed up to his feet, headed back into the cockpit and avoided B’Elanna’s eye while he contacted Stameris Arena to book another session with Róisín.


	7. The Meat Market

**VI. The Meat Market**  
  
“Just what exactly did you think you were doing in there?”  
  
Róisín jumped at the Ferengi’s angry hiss. “What do you mean?” she asked defensively.  
  
“You’re the whore, not the client,” Broik said furiously. He grabbed her by the elbow and hustled her into the viewing room behind the holosuites. “You’re supposed to make sure the client gets the good time he’s paid for. Not have him service _you_.”  
  
“Hey,” she snapped, pulling her arm away. “He didn’t do anything he didn’t want to do. Trust me – he had a good time.”  
  
She was completely unprepared for the backhanded blow. It caught her on the cheekbone and sent her staggering backward, knocking her head into the wall. The Ferengi was much stronger than he looked. Róisín picked herself up gingerly, her hand pressed to her cheek.  
  
“You’ve done it this time.” Broik’s eyes were icy. “Two strikes and you’re out, Róisín.”  
  
“Out?” For a brief moment she allowed herself to hope …  
  
Broik dashed her hopes immediately. “There’s a slave market tomorrow and you’re going up for sale. With any luck you’ll be bought by someone who knows how to keep you in line. Go and clean yourself up. You’re moving to the holding pen.”  
  
Eyes blurring, Róisín turned for the door.  
  
“And don’t bother packing,” the Ferengi called after her. “You own nothing, because you _are_ nothing.”  
  
=/\=  
  
“What do you mean, she’s no longer working in the complex?”  
  
The Ferengi dipped his head obsequiously. ~I’m sorry, Mr Miller. It’s been decided that Róisín is no longer suitable to provide our clients with temporary entertainment.~  
  
“Why not? What’s going to happen to her?”  
  
~Róisín will be available for sale tomorrow, if you have the means to purchase her.~  
  
“Sale?” Chakotay’s throat seized up. “You mean as a slave.”  
  
~As a personal companion,~ Broik corrected him unctuously.  
  
“How much will it cost to buy her?” He couldn’t believe he was having this conversation.  
  
~I couldn’t say. All purchases are by auction.~  
  
Chakotay made a decision. “Tell me where and when this _auction_ will be held.”  
  
~Of course. I’m sending the details to you now. I wish you luck with the bidding, Mr Miller. She did seem quite fond of you.~  
  
The viewscreen went black, but Chakotay continued to stare at it. Kathryn was being sold like property. He could only imagine how terrified she must be, not knowing who she really was, thinking she was alone in the galaxy, believing there was no escape, no rescue coming. She had already lost so much to this mission. He wouldn’t let anything else happen to her.  
  
He turned to his crew. “How much credit do all of you have in your personal accounts?”  
  
=/\=  
  
The most amazing hour of her life had turned out to be the ruin of it.  
  
Róisín was furious with herself. What had she been thinking? She’d built up Broik’s trust after that embarrassing episode with the Bolian and had been well on her way to buying her own freedom. Then a dark and handsome stranger had walked into her life and turned her upside down, and now she had nothing.  
  
She should have known. She wasn’t meant for a better life; she wasn’t even meant for a few moments of pleasure. But he’d been so compelling, so generous and kind, and she’d wanted so much to pretend, just for a while, that she was the woman he loved.  
  
Someone banged on the door of the tiny changing cubicle she’d been sent to. “Move it, sweetheart. You’re up in ten minutes.”  
  
Róisín got up from the floor and stared at herself in the full-length mirror. The auction attendant had handed her a couple of scraps of fabric, a hairbrush and a box of makeup and told her to “sex it up”. She’d done her best with what nature had given her to work with, and now all she could do was hope that whoever bought her would treat her with kindness.  
  
=/\=  
  
Watching the auction lots as the afternoon progressed, Chakotay realised that the combined life savings of the Parises, Seven and himself were not going to cut it – unsurprising, as the accounts of two former Maquis, an ex-convict and a Borg who’d only been freed from the Collective a few years ago were hardly likely to rival the coffers of the Grand Nagus. Even the slaves sold early in the day, when the turnout was poor and expectations were low, had brought close to the figure Chakotay had on the data chip in his pocket. Kathryn’s auction was scheduled toward the evening and the prices had been steadily climbing all afternoon, along with Chakotay’s sense of panic.  
  
Ducking away from the milling crowd, Chakotay tapped his concealed commbadge. “Chakotay to Seven.”  
  
~Yes, Captain?~  
  
“I’m going to need you to falsify a large transaction of gold-pressed latinum. We don’t have anywhere near enough.”  
  
~How large?~  
  
“I can’t be certain yet, but think of a number and quadruple it. I’ll comm you the sale price as soon as the auction’s finished. It looks like the slaves and their buyers are taken to a kind of holding area once a price has been agreed. I assume the Syndicate verifies the transaction before they let anyone leave.”  
  
~Understood, Captain. I will attempt to make our deception convincing.~  
  
Chakotay closed the connection and went back into the auction hall, studying his surroundings. On the small raised stage, the auctioneer called for bids for a trembling, scantily-clad young Bajoran woman who kept her focus on the floor, except when her large Orion handler jerked the chain attached to the leather collar around her neck, directing her to walk around, turn in a circle, smile. Chakotay clenched his fists, wishing he could save her – save them all – or better yet, shut this whole rotten operation down. But if – when - they got Kathryn out, he reminded himself, they might be able to do just that.  
  
Dancers, mostly Orion women, roamed the hall, concentrating their attention on the registered bidders, encouraging them to spend more with a sultry glance or a twist of the hips. Alcohol and tempting plates of food circulated freely. On the walls, holoprojectors displayed images of the upcoming lots. Chakotay caught sight of Kathryn’s face on the far wall and his heart beat faster, realising that soon she’d be the one up on that dais.  
  
He was half tempted to snag a drink from the tray of a passing waiter but thought better of it; he’d be needing all his faculties to get through this. _Save Kathryn, get her to safety. That’s all that matters right now_. He shoved his hand in his pocket, fingering the transceiver Seven had modified.  
  
He heard applause and saw the Bajoran girl being led from the dais toward a thickset Tellarite in the crowd, realising she’d been sold and the next woman was about to be brought in. He turned toward the curtained alcove all the previous girls had been brought through and caught sight of a flash of auburn hair and creamy limbs. This was it.  
  
=/\=  
  
Róisín stumbled slightly as her handler jerked the chain attached to her collar, catching herself and drawing her shoulders straight. She climbed the steps to the dais carefully, trying not to fall over on the six-inch heels she’d been given to wear. The handler tugged her around to face the crowd of men below her and she closed her eyes briefly. She was used to strangers seeing her wearing next to nothing – just not so many of them at once.  
  
“Gentlemen, I present Lot 47,” the Orion auctioneer intoned. “Róisín is an experienced and highly sought-after net-girl. I’ve been told her visualisation skills are quite legendary.” He paused while the crowd snickered. “Róisín has already had a number of pre-auction offers from previous clients, gentlemen, so we expect her to fetch a good price. Who’ll start me off with a bid of fifty bars of gold-pressed latinum?”  
  
A paddle appeared above the heads of the crowd and the auctioneer pointed. “Thank you, sir. The opening bid goes to you. Who’ll give me fifty-five?”  
  
Róisín focused on the far wall and tried to block out the shouts and cheers as the bidding continued around her. Her legs were shaking, partly from balancing on the towering heels, partly from adrenaline. She felt the handler yank at her collar again and realised she was being told to turn, smile, pose. Automatically she obeyed, trying not to shrink from the multitude of eyes on her exposed flesh.  
  
“One hundred and sixty-eight bars of latinum is the highest bid, from the gentleman in black. Do I have any further bids?” The auctioneer paused. “Going once, twice … last chance, gentlemen … sold!” He smacked the gavel on the small table before him. “Congratulations, sir. The beautiful and talented Róisín belongs to you. Please proceed to the waiting chamber while your payment is confirmed.”  
  
There was a rough tug on her collar and Róisín followed her handler down the steps at the front of the dais. The crowd parted as she passed through them and she tried to ignore the leering faces and the surreptitious brushes of male hands on her body. Her handler led her from the hall and into a long white room separated into smaller cubicles. “In here,” he said gruffly. He unbuckled the leather collar from her neck and she ducked through the curtained entrance to one of the cubicles. Inside was a small table holding two glasses and a bottle of wine, a couple of chairs, a large, plush sofa, and the man who now owned her body and soul.  
  
Afraid to learn who’d paid an outrageous sum for the privilege of treating her as a sex toy for the remainder of her natural life – if he didn’t discard her sooner – she almost didn’t want to look. But Róisín had never been good at resisting her own curiosity. She raised her eyes to his face, and couldn’t stifle the gasp as she recognised him.  
  
“It’s you,” she breathed, as the tall, dark stranger from last night’s session stepped forward and took her hands in his.  
  
“Hello, Kathryn,” he said.  
  
=/\=  
  
He tried so very, very hard to keep his eyes on her face. He tried not to look at her white, slender shoulders, or the way her milky skin was interrupted by the thin black straps of the bra that pushed her breasts up until they were almost spilling out of the low-cut cups. Silken fringe fell from the bottom edge of the bra to her navel, half-concealing the pale slope of her belly. Below that she wore the briefest of panties, with more of the fringe dipping from the back. Her slim legs were bare, her feet in strappy sandals with heels of a punishing height. Chakotay realised he was staring. He snapped his gaze back to her face.  
  
She was smiling, a wide, delighted smile, and she was moving closer. He stepped back. She followed. He started to tremble. The edge of the couch hit the back of his knees and he fell into it. Kathryn climbed onto him, straddling him, her breasts at eye level. He watched them rising and falling as she breathed.  
  
He was mesmerised.  
  
She freed her hands from his and leaned in, splaying her fingers flat on his chest. “I’m so glad it’s you,” she whispered as her lips brushed his own.  
  
This was torture. “Stop,” he pleaded, but her tongue traced the curves of his lips and slipped into his mouth, and he groaned and capitulated, wrapping his arms around her, kissing her fiercely. She eased back to plant hot kisses along his jawline and down his throat as her hands worked at his belt. Chakotay let his hands drift up her sides to cup her breasts, his thumbs tucking under the low cups, teasing her nipples into pebbled points. She gasped and squirmed in his lap. The movement made something small and hard dig into his thigh. _The transceiver_.  
  
With a supreme effort, Chakotay pulled his hands from her body and clasped Kathryn’s, dragging them away from his crotch. “Kathryn, wait,” he gasped, holding both her wrists in one hand as he dug into his pocket with the other, pulling out the transceiver.  
  
She stared at it. “You want to link with me?”  
  
“No, it’s not an uplink. Not that kind, I mean.” He raised her chin, making her meet his eyes. “Kathryn – _Róisín_ – do you trust me?”  
  
She bit her lip, and he had to fight hard not to take that luscious lip between his teeth, to sink his face into her cleavage, to lick at the rosy nipples that peeked above her bra … _Focus_ , he mentally slapped himself.  
  
“I don’t even know you,” she was saying. “But … yes, I trust you. I don’t know why, but I do.”  
  
“Okay,” he said. “I have to tell you something. You aren’t who you think you are.”  
  
She stared at him, drawing back a little.  
  
“Your name isn’t Róisín,” he went on, more gently. “It’s Kathryn Janeway, and you’re a Starfleet Admiral. You’re on an undercover mission to gather information on a people-smuggling operation. Something went wrong and your memory was interfered with.”  
  
“Okay,” she said slowly. “I can work with that.”  
  
“This isn’t some scenario,” Chakotay whispered urgently. “I’m not making it up. I’m your friend, Kathryn, and I’m here to take you home.” He showed her the transceiver. “If you’ll let me attach this to your dataport, it will restore your memories. But we don’t have a lot of time.”  
  
“Why not?” she asked suspiciously.  
  
“Because I don’t have one hundred and sixty-eight bars of gold-pressed latinum,” he said bluntly. “I had to fake the transaction when I won your auction.”  
  
“You _what_?” she gasped. “They’ll kill you when they find out, and then they’ll kill me!”  
  
She scrambled from his lap and backed away toward the curtained entrance to the hallway. “Wait,” he hissed. “Please, come back over here.”  
  
The communicator in his pocket chirped and he answered it automatically. “Chakotay here.”  
  
~Captain,~ came Seven’s voice. ~The Orion Syndicate has discovered our deception. Two attack cruisers are closing on our position. You need to get to the rendezvous point so we can transport you to the Flyer.~  
  
“Understood.”  
  
~Do you have Admiral Janeway?~  
  
He watched Kathryn’s eyes widen. “She’s here with me, but she’s a little suspicious. I haven’t been able to activate the transceiver yet.”  
  
~I suggest you do so at your earliest convenience. Contact us when you’re in position. Seven out.~  
  
Chakotay closed the connection and watched Kathryn hovering close to the doorway. “That was one of my friends. They’re on a shuttle orbiting the planet,” he said. “They’re your friends, too. We came here to find you.” He dared to step closer to her. “Please, Kathryn. Please believe me. We only want to help you.”  
  
She swallowed, then nodded and stepped up to him, tilting her head to allow him to attach the transceiver to her implant. He clicked it into place. “Ready?” he asked. He waited for her slight nod, then pressed the activation sequence.  
  
She gasped as the data upload initiated, her knees buckling, her body falling against his. He wrapped his arms around her to hold her up, hold her close. Her eyes closed and her lips parted as the memories streamed into her brain.  
  
Then she opened her eyes, looked into his and said, “Chakotay…”  
  
=/\=  
  
She was in his arms. She’d dreamed about this for so long, dreamed of being crushed against his tall, hard body, his strong arms holding her against him. He was gazing down into her eyes and all she wanted to do was reach up and kiss him.  
  
Everything tilted. Everything she knew swam away and came back into focus, and she remembered it all. The mission. The dance at the reunion ball. The mind jobs. That fatal argument, three years ago. Róisín, kissing him, touching him. The auction. The feel of his body against hers. Strange men invading her mind, taking from her all that she kept secret. Chakotay.  
  
“Get the hell away from me!” she gasped, throwing herself out of his embrace. She glanced down at herself and her eyes widened in horror. Turning her back to him, she wrenched at the bra until it covered her exposed nipples. She wrapped her arms around her trembling body and glared at him over her shoulder.  
  
Chakotay’s communicator chirped again. ~Torres to Chakotay,~ snapped the half-Klingon. ~We’re being hailed by the Syndicate ships. Tom’s got the holofilter on but it won’t fool them for long. We need to get out of here.~  
  
“Acknowledged.” Chakotay looked at Kathryn, who’d faced him when she heard B’Elanna’s voice. “We have to go. Now.”  
  
She sucked in a deep breath, regretting it instantly when his gaze fixed on her swelling breasts. “Fine,” she hissed, crossing her arms over her chest. “But don’t think this lets you off the hook. You _will_ explain yourself, and I have _plenty_ to say to you.”  
  
“I don’t doubt it,” he muttered, and pushed past her, lifting the curtain to check the corridor. “All clear,” he threw back over his shoulder. “Let’s go.”  
  
As they crept along the hallway, Kathryn heard a shout from behind them. “That’s him!”  
  
“Move,” she hissed, grabbing Chakotay’s arm and sprinting for the end of the corridor as fast as she could in her spike heels. At the T-junction she hesitated. “Which way?”  
  
“Right,” he said. “I think.”  
  
“You _think_?”  
  
The moment of hesitation cost them their advantage. “Stop right there,” shouted a voice from behind them, and Kathryn whirled to find a pair of huge guards, an Orion and a Kessari, running toward them. Instinctively she crouched, hands up in a defensive posture, feeling Chakotay move beside her. “You take that one,” she muttered to Chakotay, jerking her head at the Kessari. “This one’s mine.”  
  
And then the guards were on them. The Orion swiped at her with a meaty paw and Kathryn grabbed his hand, twisting her body and using her momentum to slam him into the wall. He seemed to barely feel it; she tried to follow through with a kick to his chin, but he gripped her foot and yanked, and she was slammed to the floor flat on her back with the wind knocked out of her.  
  
Dimly, she noted that Chakotay was having better luck with his opponent, but then they were much closer in size, and Chakotay wasn’t wearing lingerie and heels. The Orion yanked her foot, dragging her along the floor until he could clasp his hand around her neck. He pulled her upright by the throat and she choked, her heels scraping on the floor as she scrabbled for purchase.  
  
She heard the solid thwack of fists on flesh and rolled her eyes sideways; the Kessari had landed a couple of punches to Chakotay’s midsection and she could tell he was hurt, but he danced back and then surged forward again, connecting with the Kessari’s temple and jaw. Kathryn’s captor turned to watch the fight, grinning, and she took advantage of his momentary distraction. Twisting her body, she scissored her legs and shoved one of her stilettoes into his groin. He howled, his fingers unclamping from around her neck, and she dropped to the floor, gasping for breath.  
  
She couldn’t let him recover, though. Gathering herself, she launched from the floor and barrelled into his chest, sending him staggering back. Off-balance, he stumbled and fell and she landed heavily on top of him. She delivered a sharp elbow strike to his nose and saw the blood gush, then followed up with a flat hand to his throat and a blow to the side of his head. He tried to get up but fell back, groaning. Kathryn climbed off him and brushed off her hands, smirking with satisfaction.  
  
“Are you done?” Chakotay let his gaze sweep her from head to toe, grinning. The Kessari lay unconscious at his feet.  
  
Kathryn readjusted the parts of her that had fallen out of her so-called clothing and raised her chin. “I’m done.”  
  
“Then let’s get going.”  
  
He moved quickly through the hallway. Kathryn followed, stumbling slightly on the ridiculous heels and Chakotay reached back and grabbed her hand. She tried to wrench it away but his fingers tightened on her wrist. “You need to keep up,” he hissed.  
  
They turned a corner into a lofty-ceilinged space dotted with large columns, fountains and groups of lounges, just as shouts came from behind them. “Hurry,” Chakotay yelled, dragging her with him. She struggled to keep up. Phaser fire seared the air and Chakotay grabbed her and pulled her behind a column. “Are you okay?” he asked.  
  
“I’m fine.”  
  
“Good,” he said, and then his arms dropped from around her, his eyes rolled back in his head, and he slumped to the ground.  
  
Kathryn’s mouth opened in shock. Crouching beside him, she realised he’d taken a hit to his left thigh; there was a large, scorched hole in his leather pants and she could see reddened flesh though it. She checked his pulse and breathed a huff of relief to feel it strong and steady; he’d only been stunned, then. She felt in his pocket for his communicator. “Janeway to Torres.”  
  
~Admiral!~ B’Elanna’s delighted voice came through clearly. ~Are you all right?~  
  
“Yes, but Chakotay’s unconscious. Can you beam us up?”  
  
~We’re a little busy at the moment, Admiral.~ Kathryn could hear what sounded like sizzling consoles through the commlink. ~We’re under attack by two Syndicate ships and can’t drop shields until we shake them. Can you hold out?~  
  
Kathryn glanced around. The chamber was deserted, but she could hear their pursuers coming closer. “I’ll have to find us someplace to hide,” she whispered into the communicator. “Contact me as soon as you’re clear to transport us. Janeway out.”  
  
Slipping her hands under Chakotay’s arms, she struggled to get to her feet bearing his dead weight. He groaned and his eyelids fluttered, so she slapped his face, trying not to take too much pleasure in it. His eyes sprang open. “Ow,” he complained. “What was that for?”  
  
“Oh, you don’t even want me to _start_ answering that question,” she hissed. She stood, tugging at his arm. “On your feet, Captain. We need to find a hiding place.”  
  
“Right,” he muttered. He staggered upright, wincing in pain, and glanced around. “That doorway,” he said, pointing. “It looks like a storage room.”  
  
“Let’s go.” Kathryn ducked her shoulder under his left arm and took off at a fast walk, Chakotay hobbling to keep up with her pace. The door was locked. Chakotay rammed his shoulder against it and it burst open, the pair of them falling through just as their pursuers spilled into the open chamber.  
  
Kathryn looked around quickly. There were shelves of bedclothes, cabinets filled with hundreds of varieties of alcoholic beverages, glassware and plates stacked up to the ceiling, a storage unit filled with datachips and holographic equipment … she moved over to it and started pawing through.  
  
“Here,” she said triumphantly. “I can modify this holoemitter to project a forcefield. I can make it look like part of the room, and it should scatter their sensors if they’re carrying scanning devices. Come over here.”  
  
She helped him to a bench against the back wall and sat beside him, tapping at the holoemitter. “Hurry,” Chakotay urged, hearing their followers coming closer.  
  
“Shut up and let me concentrate… Okay, that should do it.” She shifted on the bench, pressing against his side, and his arm came automatically around her. “The forcefield only projects for a couple of metres,” she muttered. “Stay still and be quiet.”  
  
The door burst open and they watched as another Orion burst into the room, phaser held in front of him. He scanned the small area. “Clear,” he shouted, and left, banging the door closed behind him. Kathryn exhaled and started to move away from Chakotay but he tightened his arm around her waist. “Wait until we know it’s safe,” he whispered in ear. She tried to ignore the shiver her body produced at the feel of his breath on her skin.  
  
He held her immobile, his thigh pressed along the length of hers and his mouth very close to her ear, and gradually she started to relax into him, curving closer as though her body couldn’t help reaching out for him. _Stop that_ , Kathryn told it severely, but her body wasn’t listening. It was too busy humming with pleasure at his proximity and the warmth of his breath against her neck, the touch of his lips, the stroking of his fingers on her ribcage … “Cut it out!” she hissed, yanking herself away from him. “And you can wipe that smirk off your face, too.”  
  
Chakotay grinned wider, and Kathryn averted her eyes before she could lean over and lick at his dimples.  
  
Gradually the sounds of pursuit died away and Kathryn turned off the holoemitter. “It should be safe to get out of here now. Where’s the rendezvous point?”  
  
“In the foyer of the complex. It’s the only part that’s unshielded.” Chakotay got carefully to his feet, took an experimental step forward and grimaced in pain. He turned to look at her. “Kathryn, if I slow us down you have to leave me behind. Just get yourself to the beam-out point.”  
  
She snorted. “As much as you deserve to be left to the mercy of the Orion Syndicate, Chakotay, you know that’s not going to happen.”  
  
“I mean it,” he insisted. “I didn’t go through all this just for you to get captured again.”  
  
She grasped his arm and slung it over her shoulder. “You’ll use any excuse to get out of hearing what I have to say to you. Now shut up and move.”  
  
“You are nothing but trouble, woman, you know that?” he muttered, trying not to lean too much of his weight on her as she helped him to the door.  
  
=/\=  
  
Kathryn let Chakotay lean against the corridor wall to catch his breath while she peered around the corner. The foyer was a hive of activity, and among the prospective gamblers, drinkers and net-girl clients waiting to be greeted and placed, she could see at least a dozen armed guards. She sank back into the shadows. “We can’t go in there,” she whispered.  
  
Chakotay tapped his communicator. “Chakotay to Flyer. What’s your status?”  
  
~We’re holding our own,~ B’Elanna replied. ~Tom’s done okay at keeping us from taking too many hits, but don’t tell him I said so. Are you at the rendezvous?~  
  
“We’re almost at the foyer, but we can’t get any closer. Can you beam us out from here?”  
  
~Stand by.~  
  
There was a pause, and Seven came on the line. ~Captain, Admiral, I’m detecting your lifesigns but can’t get a clean lock. If you can move approximately ten metres from your current position, we will drop shields and beam you out.~  
  
“Understood, Seven.” Chakotay glanced at Kathryn. “Is there any cover out there?”  
  
“There’s a big stand of pot plants about fifteen metres from the doorway, but we’ll have to cover open ground to get to it.”  
  
Chakotay nodded. “Ready to go?”  
  
She wrapped her arm firmly under his shoulders. “Ready.”  
  
“Chakotay to Seven. Fifteen seconds to transport.”  
  
~Acknowledged, Captain.~  
  
He nodded at Kathryn, and they leapt forward, heads tucked down, and ran for the plantstand.  
  
Shouts erupted as they were spotted from the other side of the room. Kathryn heard booted feet coming closer and she shoved Chakotay as far forward as she could, seeing him stumble to his knees behind the plants. She felt a hand grab for her and miss as she dived after him, landing half on top of him, and then the transporter beam caught them.  
  
They materialised inside the Delta Flyer’s cockpit, sprawled on the floor with Chakotay’s arms wrapped around Kathryn. She clambered to her feet and held out a hand to help him up, then realised that three pairs of eyes were locked onto her. Seven’s eyebrow was raised, B’Elanna was blushing furiously, and Tom’s jaw was slack.  
  
“What?” she asked defensively, then remembered what she was wearing and blushed even redder than B’Elanna. Chakotay moved protectively in front of her. “Report,” he said brusquely.  
  
“We have sustained minor damage to the port phaser array and the replicator system,” Seven replied. “Shields are at sixty-eight percent. We are on course for the Sol system at warp nine point eight.”  
  
Chakotay looked pointedly at Tom, still gaping at Kathryn.  
  
“Eyes front, Flyboy,” hissed B’Elanna, and he shut his mouth with a snap and swivelled back to the helm.


	8. The Freckles In Our Eyes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title of this chapter is borrowed from 'Such Great Heights' by The Postal Service. No infringement intended.

**VII. The Freckles In Our Eyes**  
  
Seven opened an overhead storage locker, found a blanket and came over to wrap it around Kathryn’s shoulders. Kathryn looked up at her gratefully, squeezing her hand for a moment. “Thank you, Seven,” she said, then smiled around at the others. “Thank you all.”  
  
“Anything for you, Admiral,” Tom returned, finding it a lot easier to look at her now that she’d covered up. Not that he hadn’t preferred the view before.  
  
“Seven, help me get Chakotay into the aft section,” Kathryn ordered. “I need to take care of his phaser wound.”  
  
“I’m fine,” Chakotay protested.  
  
Kathryn sent him an even look. “You need medical attention. And besides, I think it’s time we had a little chat, don’t you?”  
  
“Yes, ma’am,” he said resignedly. Seven offered her arm and he took it, limping into the Flyer’s rear compartment. She deposited him on one of the narrow bunks, handed Kathryn a medkit and disappeared back into the forward section.  
  
Chakotay stretched his leg out and Kathryn crouched on the floor in front of him, prodding at the edges of his wound none too gently. He tried not to flinch, and distracted himself from the pain by wondering how long it would take the blanket to slip from her shoulders. The hasty knot she’d tied was already losing structural cohesion.  
  
Eventually she decided he’d suffered enough – at least physically – and took out a dermal regenerator, running it over the burn. Chakotay waited for her to start tearing strips off him. But she remained silent, and finally he couldn’t stand it.  
  
“Go ahead and say it.”  
  
She glanced up at him briefly. “Say what?”  
  
“Whatever it is you’ve been wanting to say to me ever since you remembered who you are.”  
  
She switched settings to begin the deep-tissue regeneration. “Oh, it’s nothing really.”  
  
“Kathryn…”  
  
“I was just wondering if all that down there on Stameris was enough for you.”  
  
He looked at her blankly. “Enough?”  
  
“Yes. Enough revenge. Enough payback.”  
  
“I’m sorry, Kathryn, I’m not understanding you.”  
  
“For all the wrongs I’ve done you.” She dialled the regenerator to the epidermal setting. “How did you put it? Oh, that’s right. For doing exactly as I please, and to hell with anybody who gets hurt in the process. For playing with your feelings for the sake of my ego.” She finished healing his skin and placed the instrument precisely in its slot in the medkit, rising to her feet. He looked up at her and realised she was trembling with anger. “Well played, Chakotay. I concede this round decisively to you.”  
  
He stared at her. “Are you serious?”  
  
She shot him an unreadable look and turned away to pack the medkit in a storage locker.  
  
“You _are_ serious,” he marvelled. Flexing his leg, he got to his feet carefully; she’d done a thorough job and only a twinge of pain remained. “Do you honestly believe I came out here, involved three of our friends in a dangerous mission, risked a conflict with the goddamned Orion Syndicate, just so I could take some kind of _personal revenge_ on you?” His voice was rising with each word. “You really are a piece of work, Kathryn.”  
  
“That’s not what I’m talking about,” she shot back heatedly, beginning to pace.  
  
“Then for pity’s sake, would you please enlighten me?”  
  
She stopped pacing in front of him, her body taut with tension, hands clenched at her sides. “You know exactly what I’m talking about. I’m talking about you _renting_ me. What the hell _was_ that, Chakotay?”  
  
“You’d gone missing,” he retorted. “I had to make contact with you, and booking a – a session with you was the only way.”  
  
“Not that!” she yelled directly in his face. “I’m not _talking_ about that! I’m talking about what you _did_ to me!”  
  
To her surprise, Chakotay’s eyes slid away from hers and a flush worked its way up from his collar. “What I did was wrong,” he said to his feet.  
  
“And now you regret it?” There was a tremor in her voice that she hadn’t intended to be there, a tightness in her chest. Kathryn swallowed hard. _I will not cry_ , she berated herself.  
  
He was silent.  
  
“Well?” she demanded. _There, better. Anger is much better than tears_.  
  
“No,” he said quietly. “I don’t regret it.”  
  
“Because you won.”  
  
“I won?” It wasn’t the first time Chakotay had felt a little lost and bewildered while in conversation with Kathryn, but this was particularly disorienting. “What did I win?”  
  
“The contest. The battle. Whatever you want to call this game we’ve been playing for three years, or I guess for ten years, although I admit I wasn’t actually aware we were in competition in the Delta quadrant. I had a few other things on my mind.”  
  
She turned back to him and Chakotay realised that her cheekbones were flushed, her eyes suspiciously bright, her lips trembling. And suddenly he understood. “You think I made you orgasm so I could hold it over you somehow? So I could feel like I’d beaten you?”  
  
She said nothing, just lifted her chin higher, and he watched her throat work as she swallowed.  
  
“You are unbelievable,” he said softly. “I’ve been feeling guilty for taking advantage of you when you weren’t yourself, and you’re telling me you think I _played_ you?”  
  
He stepped closer and took her hands in his. She snatched them away. “Oh no, I’m not falling for it again, Chakotay.”  
  
Chakotay shook his head. “I’m not playing with you, Kathryn.”  
  
“Oh, really?” She glared at him. “What was all that kissing and touching about in the waiting area after the auction, then? What did you think you were doing with me in that storage room?” She folded her arms and her makeshift cloak came perilously close to slipping off completely. “You took advantage of the fact that I find you physically attractive.”  
  
“You do?” A smile twitched at his lips. “Well, Kathryn, I happen to find you physically attractive, too.”  
  
The glare became steely. “Just because we have some kind of chemistry didn’t give you the right to – to …”  
  
“To make you come so hard your whole body was shaking?” he offered, unsuccessfully hiding a smirk. “Twice?”  
  
“Oh, _shut up_!” she cried. “Yes! Okay, you want to know if I wanted you? Yes, I did. I do. You want me too. So what? It doesn’t mean anything.”  
  
“Didn’t you hear what I said to you last night?” Chakotay raked a hand through his hair in frustration. “You asked me – I mean, _Róisín_ asked me - if Kathryn was someone I loved. I said yes.”  
  
She opened her mouth to say something, but nothing came out.  
  
“I didn’t just want your body, Kathryn, although I admit I’ve dreamed about making love to you in every conceivable position and location, virtually every day since we met. I love you.”  
  
He reached for her hands again, and this time she let him take them. His voice was gentle when he spoke again. “I _love_ you, Kathryn,” he repeated, tugging her toward him. When she didn’t resist, he placed a finger under her chin and tipped her face up to his. “I love you,” he said again, and her lips parted and he kissed her.  
  
The blanket finally slipped from her shoulders, but he didn’t take advantage of her sudden exposure. He kept one hand on her face and the other looped around her waist as he kissed her slowly, lightly, tenderly. When he eventually pulled back, she kept her eyes closed for a moment, her lips still parted and her face upturned as though in her mind she was still kissing him. Her eyes, when she opened them, were darker than he’d ever seen them. Chakotay brushed a thumb across her lower lip and her mouth curved into a smile. “Hey,” he said, answering her smile with one of his own.  
  
“Hi,” she said in a voice so low and throaty that he felt it throughout his body, in all the places he wanted her to touch him.  
  
“Are you still angry?”  
  
She shook her head.  
  
“Do you forgive me?”  
  
She bit her lip as though hesitating, then grinned at him. “Yes.”  
  
He kissed her again, letting his fingers trace the bones of her shoulders, the lines of her arms, and this time when they broke apart she was a little out of breath. “Do you forgive _me_?” she asked.  
  
“For what?”  
  
“For seven years of holding you at arms’ length.”  
  
“I was never really angry with you, Kathryn,” he said softly. “Angry at fate, maybe. There were times when it felt incredibly unfair that I was in love with you.”  
  
Her eyes lowered. “I happen to have a pretty good understanding of the unfairness of the universe myself.”  
  
Chakotay looked at her quizzically, and she tried to explain. “I think the real reason I was so mad at you for, uh, doing the things you did with Róisín is because I was jealous.”  
  
“Kathryn Janeway, that makes absolutely no sense at all.”  
  
She smacked his chest, lightly, then sobered. “Róisín got to be with you in a way I’ve thought and dreamed about for years. I mean, I’ve fantasised about you for so long that I can’t even remember what it was like to be with anyone else, and there hasn’t been any point in trying to meet someone new because I never could get you out of my mind.”  
  
“You fantasised about me?” Chakotay was looking at her with an expression that was a cross between affection and amazement.  
  
“In every conceivable position and location, virtually every day since we met.”  
  
He kissed her again. This time his hands were bolder, roaming over her breasts, her hips, the inside of her thigh, and she was squirming in his arms and gasping for breath when he raised his head.  
  
“So you see,” she managed when she’d gulped enough air to speak, “why I was jealous of Róisín. You knew you were really with me when you were touching me and driving me crazy with that mouth of yours, but I didn’t. The one time I got to make my fantasies come true, I didn’t even know it.”  
  
“Well, there’s only one way to fix that,” Chakotay murmured, tugging her down onto the bunk and rolling her under him. “Let’s act out a few of your fantasies we didn’t have time for yesterday.”  
  
=/\=  
  
All had fallen quiet in the aft section.  
  
“Do you think they’ve murdered each other?” Tom whispered.  
  
There was a muffled giggle, then a feminine moan echoed clearly through the open doorway. B’Elanna exchanged a raised eyebrow with her husband.  
  
“Oh _God_ ,” they heard Kathryn gasp, and Seven got up and pressed the panel beside the door, letting it slide shut.  
  
“I believe the Admiral and the Captain have elected not to engage in grievous bodily harm,” she said calmly, then added, “They may be saving that part for later.”  
  
B’Elanna burst out laughing, and Tom turned back to the helm with a wide, satisfied grin.  
  
=/\=  
  
Her bra was more off than on, dangling from one shoulder, her panties kicked into a far corner, and Chakotay was nipping and licking down the length of her torso.  
  
“Do you remember – oh – what you called me – ah – at the homecoming ball?”  
  
He curved his arm under the small of her back to bring her closer. “What?” he mumbled, circling his tongue in the hollow of her navel.  
  
“You called me –” she gasped as his mouth edged lower – “a cold, hard bitch.”  
  
“Did I say that?” His words were muffled against the flat stretch of her abdomen.  
  
“Ye-es,” her reply trailed off on a moan.  
  
“I don’t know what I was thinking,” he smiled against her skin. “You’re so warm” – he rubbed his cheek against the creamy skin of her inner thigh – “and soft” – his tongue travelled into her sodden depths and he stopped talking to suck her clit into his mouth.  
  
Kathryn threw her head back and gritted her teeth against a groan. “But I’m still a bitch?” she managed.  
  
He mumbled something around a mouthful of Kathryn, and she shivered at the sensation. “Maybe a little,” he said more clearly. She smacked him on the shoulder. Laughing, he laid tiny bites and licks all the way back up to her nipple, which he captured none-too-gently between his teeth. “You’re a beautiful, sensual, fascinating, infuriating woman, and I love you beyond reason,” he whispered, letting his lips trail up to the line of her jaw. “Now can we please stop talking?”  
  
“I just have one more thing to say,” she murmured, her own hands busy shoving his pants down over his hips.  
  
Chakotay pulled back and looked at her in exasperation.  
  
Kathryn flipped him onto his back and straddled him, then placed her palms either side of his face, gazed into his eyes and smiled. “I love you, too.”  
  
She sank down onto him, taking him fully inside her for the first time, both of them groaning at the fulfilment of ten long years of wanting, and there was no more talking after that.


	9. Epilogue: The De-Briefing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story originally ended with the previous chapter, but after I submitted it to the VAMB exchange it kept bugging me that I went with a fade-to-black (albeit a fairly explicit one). I wanted to give my recipient more bang for her NC-17 buck, so I wrote this little add-on. Thanks again to Mary S for the super-speedy beta.

**Epilogue: The De-Briefing**

~Starfleet Command to Delta Flyer II.~

Tom switched on the viewscreen. “Flyer here.”

~Commander Paris?~ Admiral Patterson’s brow wrinkled. ~Where are Admiral Janeway and Captain Chakotay?~

“Ah …” Tom fidgeted. “They’re, ah, in the aft compartment, sir.”

~Well, get them for me, son.~

Tom heard B’Elanna snicker into her sleeve and shot her a baleful glance. “Um, Admiral, they’re a little busy at the moment.”

~Doing what?~ barked Patterson, frowning.

“They’re in conference,” Tom said desperately, trying to ignore B’Elanna’s shaking shoulders. “They’ve asked they not be disturbed.”

Patterson’s frown morphed into a scowl. ~Listen, son. This is a critical mission and I’m expecting Admiral Janeway’s report. I want to talk to her immediately.~

Tom cast a desperate glance at Seven, whose mouth was curled ever so slightly at the corners. She raised an unhelpful eyebrow at him. “Sir, they’re debriefing,” he tried, and heard B’Elanna double over in fits of laughter.

Patterson drew himself up. “I’m only going to say this one more time, Commander. Patch me through to them _right now_ or I’ll cite you for insubordination.~

“Aye, sir,” Tom sighed. “One moment, please.”

=/\=

He could hardly believe it was finally happening. She arched above him, gloriously naked,  riding him as he held her hips and thrust up into her, gritting his teeth to hold back the onset of his climax. There was no way he wanted this to be over too soon, and he had every intention of making her come at least twice before he did.

Chakotay slid a hand up to her breast, teasing her nipple with his thumb, and watched Kathryn shudder and moan. She leaned down to kiss him and he wrapped his other hand in her hair, holding her close. The change in angle made him rub up inside her deliciously and he felt her begin to tense, her inner muscles rippling around him. She began to gasp into his mouth, small breathy little moans that were playing havoc with his control. He nibbled his way from her mouth along her jawline until he found that spot under her ear that produced such a gratifying reaction. This time was no different; he sucked lightly at her neck as he ground up into her and instantly felt her entire body convulse and her inner walls clamp tightly around his cock as she buried her face in his shoulder to muffle her shriek.

He held on by a thread as he let her ride it out. When she went boneless in his grasp, he flipped her beneath him, spread his hands under her buttocks and started thrusting into her in earnest. Her head fell back and her mouth opened in a silent O as her body arched, her hands gripping the sheets. She locked her ankles behind his back, rocking her hips to meet him, and he felt her tightening around him again, her thighs quivering. “Chako- _tay_ ,” she wailed as her orgasm bowed her spine, and he answered her with a growl as with a final thrust he buried himself in her body as deep as he could go and emptied himself inside her.

Kathryn was still shaking as she pulled him close and buried her face in his neck. He tried to shift his weight off her, sure he was too heavy, but she simply tightened her arms and legs around him, so he rolled onto his back, taking her with him. He felt her pulse start to slow and curled his hands into her hair. “Kathryn,” he murmured, and she raised her smiling face to kiss him sweetly. He kissed her back, tracing her lips with his tongue.

He moved one hand around to stroke from the side of her breast, down her side to cup her ass, and felt himself hardening again inside her. Her breath let out on a moan and she pressed against him involuntarily. “You’re insatiable,” she murmured, smiling against his mouth.

“Whose fault is that?” he grinned as her lips traveled down to his throat. She nipped his chin with sharp teeth and in retaliation he slapped her lightly on the ass, making her jump and squeak. He was just starting to let his fingers travel with purpose when the comm system beeped.

~Uh, Paris to aft section,~ came the sheepish voice. ~Everyone alive back there?~

“Barely,” Chakotay replied.

Kathryn smacked him on the shoulder. “What is it, Tom?”

~You have no idea how sorry I am to do this to you, but Admiral Patterson is on subspace and he really wants to talk to one or both of you. He won’t take no for an answer.~

They looked at each other.

“You do it,” Kathryn whispered.

“Me? It’s _your_ mission he wants to know about, not mine.”

“I just escaped from being _brainwashed_.”

“You’re the senior officer.”

“And you may be an officer, but you’re no gentleman,” she hissed.

Chakotay grinned and fished his shirt off the floor, tossing it to her. “Make yourself decent.”

She glared at him as she buttoned it haphazardly and shook out her hair. “Okay, Tom, you can route the call through now,” she called, sitting at the small table and pulling the comm terminal closer. To Chakotay she hissed, “Stay out of sight. And don’t think I’m letting you off the hook.”

“The last time I made you angry, it turned out pretty well for me,” he teased her. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Kathryn shot him a glare and had to compose herself quickly when Admiral Patterson’s impatient face appeared onscreen.

~Finally,~ he said indignantly, then softened. ~It’s good to have to you back, Katie. How are you?~

“I’m fine, Theo, thanks to Captain Chakotay and his crew.”

~Good. Report, Admiral.~

She straightened in response to his change in tone. “I’ll send a full report shortly, sir, but the mission was a relative success. I can verify the identity of at least two of the – of the perpetrators…” Her voice trailed off as a large hand slid between her knees, parting them under the table. She gulped.

~The perpetrators,~ Patterson prompted.

“Uh, yes, the men running the kidnapping ring…” Another hand spread over the base of her back, pulling her forward on her chair, and she felt a tongue trace along her inner thigh. She bit her lip on a gasp as two fingers slid inside her and curled upward.

~Are you sure you’re all right, Katie?~

“Y-yes sir,” she sighed, fighting to stop her eyes from closing as the tongue started tracing small circles over her clitoris and the fingers moved deliciously inside her.

~You should have Commander Paris check you over. You look a little flushed.~

“I’m perfectly fine,” she squeaked. “Just a little … distracted…”

~I should let you get some rest,~ Patterson said solicitously. ~Where’s Captain Chakotay? I’ll speak with him instead.~

Kathryn felt the vibrations of Chakotay’s laughter between her legs and moaned aloud. “He can’t talk right now either,” she blurted.

~Whyever not?~ Patterson stared at her from the comm screen.

Chakotay sucked her clit into his mouth and Kathryn started to shake. “You know what, Admiral, you’re right. I really could use some rest. We’ll call you back,” and without waiting for a reply, she slammed a hand down on the comm unit, closing the channel. She glared down at the man kneeling between her legs. “You – you can’t – you just…”

“It’s not like you to be so inarticulate, Kathryn,” he responded, taking a long, lazy swipe at her with his tongue.

She moaned, louder, and again as he slightly increased the pace and pressure of his fingers inside her. “You’re going to be the death of me,” she said breathlessly. “And probably my career as well.”

“Are you angry?” he murmured against the soft skin of her thigh.

“Not as angry as I’ll be if you stop,” she gasped, her fingers twining into his hair as her hips rocked toward him. “Get back to work, Captain. That’s an order.”

“Yes ma’am,” he grinned, and returned enthusiastically to duty.


End file.
